The Relationship Dilemma
by rxcknrollrebel
Summary: Leonard and Sophie's relationship is tested after a terrible accident. (Leonard x OC)
1. Chapter 1

**A/N This is the sequel you have all been waiting for. The sequel to The Art of Breaking Up, now showing in a fanfiction near you. I highly suggest you read The Art of Breaking Up first, otherwise you'll be confused asf. Unlike the previous story, this will be written in first person-present tense. I thought I'd clear those things up before we start.**

 **Here's the first chapter!**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own the Big Bang Theory. I only own my idea for this story and my OFC, Sophie.**

 _"I lay awake at four_

 _Staring at the wall_

 _Counting all the cracks backwards in my best French_

 _Reminds me of a book I skim-read in surgery_

 _All about palmistry, I wonder what's in store for me"-_

Courtney Barnett, "An Illustration of Loneliness."

Chapter One

A year ago, I wouldn't have even dreamed that things would turn out this way. I can't say I regret it, not at all, actually. Things between Leonard and I have certainly grown heated, and not in a bad way. (Hint hint, nudge nudge.)

I'm lying on the bed Leonard and I now share. About a week ago, I agreed to let Leonard move in with me, but with some precautions and rules. We each have to let each other have our own space (AKA "me" time- which usually consisted of me reading a novel for the millionth time in bed, while he watched an episode of _Doctor Who_ or played video games in the living room) each night, and we always have to give a heads up whenever we have a guest over as to not speculate anything suspicious, and no loud music or video games past ten-thirty P.M. You can't ask for a much better life than that.

My tattered copy of _The Outsiders_ lies sprawled across my chest, pages slightly bent. I must have dozed of while reading it.

I set the book on the nightstand (on my side of the bed- we were also very persnickety of our sleeping habits) and peel the _Star Wars_ (I know…) coverlet off my body. My outfit consists of a pink bra and camouflage boy pants.

I head to the bathroom and flick on the light. I wince as soon as I look in the mirror. My black hair is awry, like a mad scientist's, and there's a mark on my wrist from sleeping on it wrong.

Fuck it. I reach for the scissors, raising them to my head.

You probably shouldn't cut your hair at nine-thirty at night. But I find myself doing this anyway.

It doesn't look too bad, actually. It's in a shaggy pixie cut, just lingering above the ears, with a few stray pieces here and there and a little longer on the right. It looks quite similar to P!nk's.

Not too shabby, I guess. I'll have to go in and get it trimmed so it'll look the right kind of messy.

I set the scissors aside and run my fingers through the curls, tucking one side behind my ear and let the rest wave down the side.

I emerge from the bathroom, using a towel to brush off any extra strands of hair off my body, to see Leonard entering the apartment.

"Hi-lo." He stops in his tracks, eyes widened when he sees me. "I like your hair," he stammers out, reddening in the face.

I smile at him, greeting him with a peck on the cheek and subsequently burying my face into his chest.

"I did it myself," I murmur, my voice muffled by his jacket.

"You did that yourself?" Leonard runs his fingers through my hair, stroking as if it's a cat. "It's gorgeous."

"It's nothing." Oh God, I sound like one of those girls that don't know how to take a compliment. "I mean, thanks. I may go out to get it trimmed up, though."

His breath is hot in my ear. "It's perfect the way it is."

Chills run up and down my spine. Why does he do this to me? "Leonard, I'm tired. Can we go to bed now?"

"Sure," Leonard mumbles, picking me up bridal style.

"Hey-" I half-giggle, half-moan, "Put me down!"

"Never," he says playfully, a flirtatious smirk tugging at his lips.

We both dive onto the bed, me straddling Leonard.

"It's been awhile since we've done this," Leonard remarks as I remove my bra. "I may be a little rusty."

I giggle seductively, trailing my fingers across his chest and slowly removing his shirt.

His blush returns, and he takes his shirt from me, curling it up into a ball and tossing it clumsily on the floor.

I press my fingers onto his bare chest. He's not a macho, masculine male, but he's kind, cute, and he's good in bed. What more could I ask for?

When it's over, we both collapse onto the bed, side by side, Leonard breathing heavily.

"How'd I do?"

I roll over to face him. "You're like the little engine that could, sweetie."

He laughs through a cough. "A year...ago...would you have imagined yourself doing this... with me?"

I shake my head, smiling, and put an arm across him. "No," I admit softly, my head resting on his shoulder. "I was scared of commitment a year ago, let alone sex."

Leonard lets out a puppy-like sigh and nuzzles against me. "You smell good."

"Leonard?" Our breathing is almost in sync.

"Yeah?"

"Remember when you asked me if I ever wished I could stop time?"

"That was a long time ago." Curiosity colors Leonard's voice. "Why?"

"Well, it's a dilemma for me. Sometimes, I wish I could stop time. But, it could alter our existence, you know?"

He squeezes my wrist gently. "Yeah."

I roll over on my back, my hand moving to his chest again. "Do you ever think there's something more to what people are saying?"

"Sophie, are you trying to tell me something?"

"Try me."

He chuckles. "As a physicist, I mean, yeah. It's kinda what I do for a living. But if you mean relationship wise, I'm not so sure. Why?"

I lean my head into his side. "Never mind…," My eyes are shutting on their own, succumbing to sleepiness.

"What are you trying to tell me?"

"For real." Annoyance creeps into my voice. "It's nothing."

All I want to hear while I fall asleep is the drumming of the rain on the overhead rooftop.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N Wow! I woke up flooded with kind reviews! Thank you so much! I changed up the summary because I came up with a really good plot-line last night that might just rock your socks off. This chapter takes place a few weeks after Leonard and Sophie made love. The reason will be quite surprising. ;) Happy New Years, by the way!**

 **Disclaimer: I still don't own the Big Bang Theory. Any characters you recognize belong to the respective creators, I only own Sophie.**

 _"You don't have to read my mind_

 _To know what I have in mind_

 _Honey, you oughta know_

 _Now you move so fine_

 _Let me lay it on the line"-_

Foreigner, "Hot Blooded."

Chapter Two

Nausea is what awakens me. I immediately dive out of bed, crawling toward the bathroom and kneel over the toilet, coughing.

I wince at the taste of bile as it drips into the toilet. I feel awful. Beyond awful, actually. Was that tuna I ate the other day gone bad? It had been in the fridge for a couple weeks, after all.

My head is pounding, and my eyes are damp, what usually follows after vomiting. The vomit is tinged with pink and looks more like water.

I look away as to not subsequently throw up at the sight of it. My throat is burning with the nasty aftertaste of puke. I slush mouthwash around in my mouth before spitting into the sink, ridding myself of the coat of foam in my throat, leaning against the counter in await of the dizzy spell to subside.

"Sophie? Honey?" I hear Leonard's concerned-boyfriend voice from the doorway. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing." I look up and give him a grim smile. "I just got a little sick. I think it was that tuna that Howard made."

He laughs at my forced attempt of joking. "Do you need any water? Some crackers?" The concerned, caring glint in his eyes breaks my heart.

"I'm okay, really," I reassure him, squeezing his shoulder for extra measure. "I'm sure it's nothing serious. You're sweet. Now, go back to bed."

Leonard gives me that puppy-dog look that I fell for. I roll my eyes and sling both arms around his shoulders. "Seriously, I'm fine. Go back to bed. You have work in the morning." I push his chest playfully, and he pretends to fall onto the bed from the force.

I crawl into bed next to him, using only sheets in case I get overheated.

"You think it's a sick bug?" His voice is muffled by the comforter.

"Leonard, I'm serious." I reach over and pinch his back. "Go to sleep."

He rolls over to face me. "Okay, okay," he pouts, sounding like a disappointed three-year-old. I laugh softly at this, reaching over and running my fingers through his messy hair.

He's got that young, boyish look that I adore. Not sloppy, but still boy-next-door enough to be attractive.

Leonard trails his finger just above my breasts, hovering near the cleavage.

"Not now…," I moan light-heartedly, head-butting against his chest. "Leonard, it's not you. I'm supertired."

His heartbeat is extremely comforting, and, despite another wave of impending nausea, I find myself falling asleep, like a baby in its mother's womb.

*BBT BBT BBT*

The next morning, Leonard leaves for work. I end up packing his lunch since he was too busy worrying over me last night to pack his own.

Leonard hovers near the door, eyes wide behind his glasses. "Are you sure you don't want me to call off? I'm sure Sheldon won't mind if I miss one day…,"

I smile and rest my head against his chest, my fingers pressing into his shirt. "If you ask me if I'm okay one more time, I will pop you."

"But I just want to make sure you're-"

"Leonard, you know I love you, but you're driving me crazy." The words fly out of my mouth before I can stop them, and I press my fingers to my lips, feeling just as surprised as Leonard looks.

Leonard steps back, his expression softening. "You...really love me?"

"Of course." Another wave of nausea strikes me, but I don't think it's the bad tuna this time. "Now go to work before I smack you."

Leonard grins at me, brushing his hair out of his eyes. "Well, if you're sure. See you tonight, love."

"Bye, Len." I give him another kiss- on the lips this time to satisfy him- before closing the door in his face.

I make a bee-line for the bathroom, pushing my head against the basin and relieve myself. More vomit emits, this time eggs and bacon- lovely. _Guess who won't be eating that for another six months?_

After completing the same routine as the previous night, I grab my cell phone off the bedside table and find myself dialing Penny's number.

My heart beats faster with each ring. _C'mon, c'mon, pick up please!_

She answers on the fourth ring. "Hello?" She sounds groggy and out-of-sorts.

I speak quickly and rapidly, in an almost asthmatic way of talking. "Penny, I'm sorry I woke you, but it's kind of an emergency."

I hear the sound of covers being pushed around in the background. "It's okay, sweetie. What's wrong?"

Her comforting, motherly voice allows me to succumb to the truth that I have avoided since last night. "P-Penny, I threw up last night and I'm a-f-afraid I may be...p-pregnant." The words are so foreign and terrifying, but I can't stop myself. I feel pitiful. A year ago, I could have held back, stood firm with what I was saying. Now, the words flow freely, as if they have a mind of their own.

I hear her intake of breath. "Are you sure? I mean, when's the last time you and Leonard...had intercourse?"

My cheeks radiate with embarrassment and awkwardness, and I'm glad she can't see me. "I- I don't know. I mean, just about three weeks ago, I guess." I answer as truthfully as I can. Was it protected? I can't remember.

The sound of a sigh is blown through the speaker. "That's about enough time for a fetus to develop. Did you use protection?"

"N-no!" I squeak out the answer, my heartbeat quickening with the realization that this isn't a dream, as I hoped it would be. "We didn't. Use protection."

Penny coos in sympathy. "Oh, honey. Why don't you go to the doctor to make sure? I can't confirm this, but I'm pretty sure this would make you about four weeks pregnant, heading into the first trimester."

"Oh, God." I sink to the floor, gripping my head with my free hand. "I never planned for this to happen."

"Have you missed your period?" Penny inquires, and I take a deep breath, forcing myself to recollect.

"I'm not sure. I never really keep track of them. One may have been irregular, now that I think about it."

"Does Leonard know?" My gut swells with a new sense of dread.

"No," I say hoarsely, the tears beginning to surface. "You're the first one I've spoken to about it."

I hear the smile in Penny's voice. "Honey, I'm flattered. But you have to tell Leonard. He's the father, after all. Were you planning on conceiving?"

I am struck with realization that I wanted this to happen. As scary and foreign as it may seem at first, the fact that I might be a soon-to-be mother is thrilling. That scary-yet-thrilling "whee!" you feel when you get to the top of a roller coaster. "No. But I guess I can't turn back time, huh?" I let out a nervous chuckle to lighten up the mood.

Penny lets out a squeal of excitement. "Do you want me to come over? I can bring over my pregnancy test, if you want."

"S-sure." I swallow. My cheeks feel hot and flushed. "I'm sorry, I'm a mess….,"

"No need to apologize, sweetie." Penny dismisses my apology cheerfully. "This is a wonderful thing! I'm so excited for you and Leonard."

I'm not even going to bother to ask why she has a pregnancy test.

*BBT BBT BBT*

I sit on the couch in stunned silence. The only sound besides the rush of my heart beating in my ears is some shitty daytime reality show that I've long since forgotten the premise of. I'm happy. I really am. I'm superexcited that I'm a mom. Well, an almost-mom. So, why am I so scared? Teetering on the edge of breaking down? I never planned for this to happen. What if I don't want it after all? My head swims with a mixture of confusion, panic, and excitement. There's a knock at the door that springs me out of my muddled state. Realizing I'm only in underwear and my pink bra, I dive for the laundry basket, reaching for my baggy Led Zeppelin shirt, which is thankfully long enough to cover my underwear.

"Come in!" I beckon shakily as I pull the shirt over my head and clumsily attempt to get the wrinkles out, but to no avail.

Penny opens the door, appearing both curious and excited. "Oh!" she says in a breathy little Marilyn Monroe voice, "did you get a haircut?"

"I did." I haven't bothered to style it today, though. "I did it myself."

Penny smiles, showing tiny white teeth. "It's darling! Oh, here." She fumbles around in her purse till she deposits a long white stick. "Here's the pregnancy stick. All you have to do is pee on it." At the latter I wrinkle my nose. "I know, I know. But it's worth it in the end."

I nod jerkily and take the pregnancy stick from her. "How do I know if I'm pregnant or not?"

"It'll tell you," Penny replies, sitting down on the couch and opening some chicce magazine. "Just look for the little pink line."

I nod again, confirming my awareness, and amble to the bathroom, closing the door and sitting down on the toilet.

It takes almost five minutes for any sign of urine. After I finally urinate on the stick, I pull it out, wrinkling my nose at the smell, and study the little line. My breath hitches in my throat, and my heart begins to quicken.

"Oh, my God." Despite my lingering anxiety, I feel a little rush of excitement. "I'm pregnant!" The line is dark, barely noticeable, but still visible. "Penny, I'm pregnant!"

Penny comes darting into the room at the sound of my wobbling voice. "You are?"

I hand her the pregnancy stick. "It's dark. Is that okay?"

Penny laughs, kneeling down and studying the stick in question. "Yes. That means you're definitely pregnant."

I find myself breathing a sigh of relief. "Uh, okay. So what are we gonna do now?" Leonard is at work. But I can't possibly wait until tonight to tell him the good news. What if I jinx it? What if something goes terribly wrong?

Penny must notice the look of horror on my face, because she laughs and smiles. "Sweetie, everything's gonna be okay. It's just the jitters."

I don't like this feeling. "Is this normal?"

"It is," Penny confirms, setting the white stick on the counter. "You have to eat something. The baby needs protein."

At the thought of food, my stomach lurches. "I can't eat anything. I'll throw up."

"Try soup," Penny suggests, standing, "or some crackers. Eat slowly, or you'll make yourself sick."

Despite how serious the situation really is, I find myself laughing. "Yes, Mother." I pull my pants up, slightly embarrassed. "Sorry you had to see me butt naked."

Penny shrugs. "I dated Leonard," she says with a smile. "There's nothing I haven't seen. Come on, let's get you some food that'll actually stay down. Then we'll have a girl's day!"

*BBT BBT BBT*

After Penny force-feeds me some animal crackers, we end up crashing on the couch and watching a re-run of Sex In the City.

"How's your stomach?" Penny looks over at me, twirling her blonde hair between two fingers in a circular motion.

"Better. Thanks." I smile, allowing myself to succumb to relief. I don't know what I was so freaked out about. A _mom_! _I'm gonna be a mom!_ I'll have to start reading those parenthood books, like, how to deal with tantrums and colickyness. Parenthood for Dummies. Hopefully I won't have one that cries constantly. Even if it does turn out that way, I'll try my best to be the best mommy in the world.

I check the time on my phone. "Three o'clock," I announce almost giddily. "Leonard should be home any minute."

Penny stands. "Do you want me to leave?"

"You can stay if you want. But I'm sure Leonard would like to hear the news when it's just the two of us."

Penny smiles, giving my shoulder a squeeze as she makes her way toward the door. "Good luck, honey."

"Thank you." I feel spoiled. Penny shouldn't have wasted her whole day to take care of me. Then again, I'm thankful for her company.

The anticipation of awaiting Leonard's arrival begins to tug at my mind. Grabbing my cell phone, I dial Leonard's number, holding the phone up to my ear.

He answers on the fifth ring. "Sophie? Are you okay?" Concerned-boyfriend voice, again.

I hesitate, then decide not to tell him about my near mental breakdown this morning. I don't want to traumatize him too much. "No. I mean, yeah, I'm okay. But," I add, shifting my weight, "I do have something to tell you."

A pause. Then, "Good or bad?"

My stomach lurches, this time from panic instead of morning sickness. "It depends on how you look at it."

"Uh-oh. That doesn't sound good." He sighs. "I'll be there in five."

"See you then, baby." I hang up the phone, almost wincing at the in-love-pet-name that I've started to use.

A year ago, I wasn't this soft.

I bury my face in hands and massage my temples between two index fingers.

What the hell is happening to me?


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N Hello, boys and girls! I didn't expect this story to be very successful! I hope it is as successful as The Art of Breaking Up. Before we get started with the third chapter, I'd like to say that Sophie has two or three real flaws: she's very stubborn. She's also very distrustful and pushes people away, out of fear of getting hurt again. (This is obvious in the first story.)**

 **I'd also like to mention that there will be some trigger warnings, as followed:**

 **TW- Pregnancy. (Obviously.) If you are sensitive to pregnancy or giving birth in anyway, I'd proceed with caution. I don't know much about pregnancy, but I'm doing research to adequately describe what Sophie is going through.**

 **TW- Miscarriage (a baby dying during a stage of pregnancy)**

 **TW- self-harm/suicide mentions. It will have to do with Leonard, but nothing too ghastly or disturbing that will cause you to look away from the story altogether.**

 **TW- I don't know if this counts as a trigger warning, necessarily, but there will be drug/alcohol usage/substance abuse mentioned throughout the story, along with profanity and sexual activities. (Maybe I should change the rating to M?)**

 **That's all for now! Here we carry on.**

" _After the laughter passes by_

 _And what remains are the shatter of truth you try to hide_

 _And for our sins left never reconciled_

 _The simple truth is hearts were made to just fail_

 _No matter how hard we try"-_

Fuel, "I Should Have Told You."

Chapter Three

The door suddenly opens, causing me to jump.

Leonard sidles over, shrugging his jacket off. A worried look plasters his face. "What's wrong? Did you get sick again?"

I take a deep breath as tears threaten to spill again. "Leonard, I'm pregnant."

Leonard's eyes widen. But he doesn't react negatively. Instead, he throws his arms around me and pulls me against his chest. "Really? That's great! How did you-"

"You know how I got sick this morning?" I slide both arms around his shoulders. "That wasn't just a sick bug. That was...morning sickness." I feel odd just saying the words. It'll take awhile to get used to this. "I took a pregnancy test. It was positive."

Leonard takes a deep breath. "You mean...I'm gonna be a dad?" The giddiness and excitement in his voice is so sweet.

I flick his chest. "Yup," I confirm, looking up at him. "I'm gonna be a mom."

He does a weird little circle around the room that I can only assume is a happy dance. I'm glad we don't go out dancing. It's better that the two of us have Chinese takeout and watch _Doctor Who_ than to subject the public to his dancing skills, or lack thereof.

"Stop," I chide between laughs, and push him onto the couch, collapsing beside him. "You know, I'm excited too."

His smile shows in his eyes. "Should we start picking out names?"

I laugh. "Slow down, cowboy. We don't even know its gender yet." I secretly hope it's a little boy. Little boys kill me.

"If it's a boy, Leonard Jr.," Leonard suggests lamely, "if it's a girl, Leonardina."

"Stop it." I can't help but smile at his cheesiness, though.

He grins at me. "I think this calls for a celebratory dinner."

 ***TBBT TBBT BBT***

We end up cooking meatloaf and mashed potatoes for dinner. I use my mom's old recipe from my childhood, all recited from heart. Leonard mixes the mashed potatoes, and I put the meat into the oven.

About twenty minutes later the food is ready. Out of habit I grab the plates and steer myself toward the living room, but Leonard halts me by putting a hand on my shoulder. "I hereby declare we actually eat at the dinner table tonight."

"And not behave like heathens," I add as we sit at the table, setting silverware and plates onto the flat, wooden surface.

"Ah, but I think the lady doeth protest too much." Leonard gives me a smile to show he's kidding.

I poke my meatloaf with a spork, suddenly uneasy. "Remember when that psychic said our love will come with a price?"

Leonard shrugs nonchalantly, stuffing meat and ketchup into his mouth. "Yeah, so? You said yourself she's a whack job."

I raise my eyes from my own food. "But what if she is right, and something bad does happen?" The feeling of impending doom tugs at my gut. Maybe I should get checked at the doctor for an anxiety disorder. "I don't want that to be true…,"

Leonard puts his hand over mine, giving it a tight-yet-gentle squeeze. "It's probably nothing. Besides, you shouldn't get yourself worked up; the stress is bad for the baby."

"Right." I take a sip of milk from my cup. It will only be a matter of time before I start producing milk myself. The thought brings a new rush of excitement, and I dig into my food, eating slowly, as to not make myself sick like Penny suggested. I'll try to keep the fact that Penny was the one who helped me realize I was pregnant in the first place a secret. Not that I don't trust Leonard, but I don't want to upset him.

But he's right.

I shouldn't get myself worked up.

After all, the baby _is_ all that matters now….

 ***TBBT TBBT TBBT***

I awake panting and in a cold sweat, my pulse throbbing. I can hear the rush of my heartbeat in my ears.

It's not nausea that's causing my insomnia this time around. I can't quite pinpoint it, but I almost feel as if I'm having a heart attack, a tingly pain shooting through my arm.

Between short, sputtered gasps, I lean across the bed and reach for my cell phone, assuming I need to call 911 in case it is a heart attack.

Leonard stirs, lifting his head groggily. "What's wrong? Are you feeling sick again?"

I shake my head, still gasping for air. "No," I manage to breath out, dropping my cell phone on the floor and grasping my chest with my fists, "I think I'm having a heart attack!"

He makes me sit back down, leaning my head against the pillows, and rubs my back in circular motions. "It's not a heart attack, I promise," he reassures me soothingly. "It's probably a panic attack."

My face feels overly warm, and I know my cheeks are tomato-red. "A...panic attack?" I take another forced deep breath. The pain has traveled from my arm to my chest, an itchy sensation forming.

"Panic attacks often have similar symptoms to a panic attack." Leonard stands, squeezing my hand as he does so. "Let me get you some water. Take some deep breaths and close your eyes."

I nod slowly and do as he says. _Breathe in, breathe out. In and out._ I breathe in through my nose and exhale from my mouth. _Rinse, lather, repeat_.

Soon enough, my heartbeat slows, the pain in my chest subsiding.

Leonard emerges from the bathroom holding a cup of ice water.

I gratefully take it from him and sip slowly, the fear of getting sick again slowing me down.

I finish the rest of my water, and Leonard sits down next to me, pulling me close. I sit between his legs and lean into his chest.

"Better?"

The pain has vanished almost entirely now, the only sensation remaining an itchy feeling in the back of my chest. "Much," I confirm, entwining my fingers with his. "This can't be good for the baby…,"

The baby hasn't even entered the world yet and I'm already causing it stress. _Great mother._ I bite back sarcastic thoughts. _No time for negativity. Think about the baby. This isn't about you._

"Were you thinking about anything stressful?" Leonard runs his fingers through my hair, untangling the black locks.

"No. I mean, maybe. I've been wondering if I'll even make a good mom in the first place." I sigh, closing my eyes and allowing the greyness to comfort me.

"Stop thinking like that. You'll make a great mother." Leonard eases me gently down under the covers again, pulling the white sheets over me. "I'm taking off work in the morning."

"You don't have to do that-" I begin to protest, but he shushes me, lying down beside me.

"I'm doing this because I want to. Now go to sleep."

 ***TBBT TBBT TBBT***

Morning arrives as quickly as night. Despite my protests, Leonard stays home, fixing me tea after my morning sickness.

"I can't keep anything down," I complain over the table, "but the baby needs protein."

"We can get you light things," Leonard says lightly, sipping his tea. "Animal crackers, saltines. No dairy, though."

"Right." He would know, but being lactose intolerant is definitely different from pregnancy.

As much as I know everything will work out, worry still lingers at the back of my mind.

Especially what Madame Pomfre had said.

Would our love really come with a price?

And if so, what the hell was it?


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N Thank you so much for the kind reviews! I also welcome constructive criticism wholeheartedly, but detest flames. (How am I going to become a better writer if you just hit me with "this sucks" or, a more counter-productive "your story is trash"?)**

 **Disclaimer: The last time I checked, I still don't own the Big Bang Theory. Do I have to do this prior to every chapter? ;_;**

 _"Time after time_

 _I guess that love is blind_

 _I couldn't read your mind_

 _Line after line_

 _It was written in your eyes_

 _I guess it's no surprise_

 _Time after time"-_

Ozzy Osbourne, "Time After Time."

Chapter Four

Leonard and I lie on the couch, my head on his chest, and his legs crossed around mine. Even though we're not talking, I must admit I do enjoy the company, just our hearts beating in tu-

The _Star Wars_ theme song, all horns and trumpets, suddenly blasts out of nowhere, causing us both to jump and Leonard to careen to the floor in surprise.

"What the hell?" I sit up, still half-asleep.

"My cell phone." Leonard holds up the buzzing phone and grins. "Sorry," he mouths, before looking down at the brightly-lit screen. "It's Raj." He jabs at the "end call" button with his index finger. "His girlfriend broke up with him, so he's bored. He keeps asking for someone to go to the comic book store with him."

Despite my own stress, I find myself smiling. "Aww, honey, he's probably just lonely," I say gently, peering over his shoulder. "You should invite him over for dinner tonight."

"Really?" Leonard glances up at me, the blue light from the screen reflecting on his glasses lense. "I mean, wouldn't that be kinda weird?"

"Why weird?" I'm suddenly parched. I grab a glass from the cupboard and pour ice-cold water into it. "I may be pregnant, but that doesn't mean I can't have fun." At this statement, I realize that I can no longer drink alcohol now that I have another human inside of me. _Shit_. _I guess I can't drink to forget now_. That's a habit I need to get under control, anyways. It could sabotage my relationships, not to mention possibly cause major health problems for the baby once born. Maybe join Alcoholics Anonymous?

He smiles. "You're right. Alright, I'll invite him over."

Just two or so hours later, Raj arrives, standing in the doorway. A brown paper back is cradled in his arms.

"I brought dinner," Raj announces through a smile as we let him in.

Leonard kisses my cheek, and I say, "You didn't have to go through so much trouble."

Raj gives a dismissive wave as he sets the paper bag on the table. "It was my pleasure. Except for the lady in the Chinese restaurant always yells at me for standing in line too long because I like to look at the fish tank."

I laugh at his childish personality and peer into the bag. "God, this smells good." I try to think: _will spices hurt the baby? Maybe I'll just stick with rice and plain chicken. Bland food._

Leonard notices my discomfort. "What's wrong?" he asks softly, massaging my shoulders.

I sigh. "It's nothing. Let's eat." I'm starved. Even if I can't eat much Chinese food because of the baby, I can at least start drinking protein shakes and more milk.

All three of us crowd around the TV, some anime that Leonard has already seen four times playing on the screen.

Raj takes a bite of his sushi. "I haven't had sex in a year," he mutters, his voice garbled with food.

I pause, my fork halfway to my mouth, and Leonard lifts his head warily. "Where are you going with this, Raj?"

"Didn't you have...um... sex with your girlfriend?" Okay, maybe that was a little too far. But curiosity killed the Sophie cat.

"She never wanted to get serious." His shoulders slump with defeat.

"Oh, Raj." I stand and give him a friendly hug. "Have you tried talking with Savanna?"

"No," Raj admits feebly, sitting back in the chair. "I didn't want to come off as clingy…"

If anything, Savanna would be the clingy one. "You should text her! It won't do any harm." A year ago, I'd set up Raj and Savanna. I still haven't gotten any news.

"Okay…," Raj agrees hesitantly, pulling out his phone. "I've been talking to Siri when I get lonely. I got her to call me 'my prince'." He leans forward, speaking into the phone. "Hey, Siri!"

A momentary pause, followed by a bleep and Siri's robotic voice: _"Hello, my prince."_

I sigh. "Bless your heart…,"

Leonard raises his eyebrows. "Okay, we really need to get you a girlfriend," he decides at last, with finality.

 ***TBBT TBBT TBBT***

Raj leaves when night begins to fall. After apprehensively texting Savanna, he agreed to text and/or _call_ her at least once a week so he won't be isolated.

"You should be on _Dr. Phil_ or something," Leonard suggests as I crawl into my fleece pajamas that night. "You saved me, like, three hours of crying and a marathon of _The Golden Girls_."

I sit down on the bed, and Leonard follows, slinging his arm around me. "It was nothing, really. He just needs to come out of his shell more."

"Okay, Oprah." Leonard gives me a peck on the cheek and turns out the light.

I lie on my left side, facing the wall, my back pressed against Leonard's.

"Sophie?"

"Yeah?" My voice is beginning to grow sleepy.

"I have a question for you."

Anxiety immediately fuels my veins. "Y-yeah?" I roll over to face him, my chest tingling. My stomach is already beginning to pudge- not big, but just so it is at least noticeable.

His sleepy eyes are darker without his glasses. "Will you...will you marry me?"

A tear slides down my cheek, and I throw my arms around him, burying my face into his chest.

"Of course." My confirmation emits sleepy but confident.

"Have we been together long enough?" He speaks into the crook of my neck.

I smile. "I don't care how long we've been together. All that matters is you, Leonard." I snuggle closer to him, his heart beating against my chest. "If I can be with you for the rest of my life, that'll be enough for me."


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N I'm so sorry for the lack of updates! I got super busy with school and then life got in the way so...yeah. ;-; Anyways here we go with the next chapter!**

 **Disclaimer: I still don't own The Big Bang Theory. I am, however, associated with my OFC Sophie. Please don't use her without my permission!**

 _"To be around you is oh-so-right_

 _You're sheer perfection_

 _Drive me crazy_

 _Drive me all night_

 _Just don't break up the connection_

 _I don't care where we go_

 _I don't care what we do_

 _I don't care pretty baby_

 _Just take me with you"-_

Prince, "Take Me With U."

Chapter Five

"Ow!"

"Sorry."

"Ouch!"

"I said sorry!"

"Don't squeeze my wrist so tight, you're gonna twist it."

"I can't help it!"

Leonard and I are awaiting anxiously- me, anxiously, at least- in the waiting room at the children's hospital in Pasadena. We're here for our first check-up. Most moms and moms-to-be are here by themselves, or with their other children. I feel like a wimp for bringing Leonard. Then again, it is his first time, so it wouldn't be seen that way from the outside world.

A little boy wearing blue trousers and a matching blue T-shirt crawls toward me across the floor, sitting at my feet. He has short blonde hair that swirls in a circle on the very top of his head, like an ice cream dollop. He has bright blue eyes and a sweet smile.

"He-llo," I coo, using baby talk.

"Everest!" A young woman, who I assume is the mother, kneels down and scoops the boy into her arms. "Come here." She looks up at me and brushes her black hair out of her eyes. "I'm sorry," she apologizes, smiling thinly. "He gets a little out of hand sometimes."

"It's okay." I smile at her. "He's cute. His name is Everest?" What a mouthful.

"Yes." She nods, smoothing his hair off his forehead. "Everest Henry, after his daddy."

"How old is he?" I almost regret asking- she's probably one of those people who tell you their whole life story in five minutes.

"14 months," the woman says as Everest tugs at her curls. "Ouch!" She grimaces, gently prying his fingers from her hair. "You can't pull Mommy's hair like that." She looks tired, and I notice there are paint stains on her overalls. She must be an artist. She looks like an artist, with her hipster hair and blue beret.

"Everest Henry?" A nurse is waiting by the door, clipboard folded under her elbow.

"Coming!" Everest's mom shifts her weight, sidling the baby on her hip. "It was nice meeting you," she calls over her shoulder as she heads toward the door.

I smile and wave.

"Everest," Leonard remarks as soon as the door shuts behind them. "What a name, huh?"

"Yeah." I want to name my child something unique, but not something so out there that they'll get picked on in grade school or demand to have their name changed in high school. I might ask Bernadette for some advice. She has a baby now, after all. I wonder how she chose Halley's name.

"Hofstadter?" A new nurse, a young woman with shoulder-length blonde hair quite similar to Reese Witherspoon's, pushes the door open, peering into the waiting room.

"That would be us." Leonard stands, extending his hand and reaching for mine. I take it gratefully and follow him to the door.

"Hello." The blonde woman sticks out her hand, and Leonard and I each shake it. "I'm Dr. Pantall."

"I'm Sophie. And this is my boyfriend Leonard," I add as we make our way down the brightly lit hallway, passing several darkened rooms.

"Is this your first time?" I nod. "Welcome, then! I love seeing couples." She seems a bit ditzy, but sweet enough. "Right this way." She leads us down another white hallway, and finally into a small room by the bathrooms.

I climb onto the bed, the white parchment paper that usually envelopes hospital beds scratching against my skin.

Dr. Pantall asks me to take my shirt and bra off. I must look anxious, because she winks at me and says, "I'm a doctor. There's nothing I haven't seen."

I shrug off my shirt and bra and set them on the plastic chair that smells like glue next to Leonard.

She places the stickers on my bare stomach, turning on the ultrasound screen. "Do you have any names yet?" Dr. Pantall asks as she circles the mouse (that's the only way I can describe it) on my stomach.

"We're waiting until we find out its gender until we decide a name." I smile, and Leonard squeezes my hand. A trill of excitement passes through my body. _I'm gonna be a mom!_ The reality of this realization makes me more than excited. The fact that I'm in the middle of an ultrasound makes it even more real.

"How far along are you?" Dr. Pantall asks as she places another sticker on my stomach.

"I think about three weeks," I tell her, inhaling and holding my breath, as if I were to breathe this would all go away.

Dr. Pantall lets out a gasp. "There it is!" She lifts one hand off the mouse and puts her index finger on the screen. "See that little shadow there?"

Leonard and I lean closer. My smile grows when I see the small shadow, our baby, in the corner of the screen.

"Sure is," I murmur, and Leonard rests his head on the crook of my neck.

I can't believe it.

 _We made a person._

 ***TBBT TBBT TBBT***

The only sound in the car is "Purple Rain" playing softly from the radio.

I breathe deeply, finally grasping that I'm a soon-to-be-mom. I realize that I have to call Savanna and tell her about the news. She probably won't be happy that I told Penny first. Savanna is my best friend, after all.

I feel Leonard's intense gaze.

"What?" I turn to face him, squinting.

"Nothing." He breaks out into a boy-ish grin. "I just love you."

"Stop the car." I reach for the wheel.

"Wait, why?" He looks slightly befuddled.

"Just stop the car!"

He pulls off to the side of the road, putting on the brakes.

I unbuckle, climbing into his lap and running my fingers through his messy curls. He peppers anxious kisses on my cheeks, and I press myself against him and reach for his zipper. "Sex won't hurt the baby," I whisper, breaths short and clipped.

He lets out a startled gasp, his head colliding with the roof. "Ouch!"

"Oh God, are you okay?" I touch his forehead.

Leonard rubs the bruised area, then begins to kiss me again, the wound momentarily forgotten. "Yeah," he mumbles, his breath hot against my ear, "I think I'm just fine."

"Let's take this to the back seat," I murmur, and he unbuckles.

We both crawl into the back seat, sprawling out on the plush leather seats.

The wonderful, wonderful sensation of making love thrills me, and I know now why so many people write songs about car sex.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N I'm so glad people are actually enjoying this story! Your reviews make my day. I apologize for the update delay once more, I had a bunch of school stuff to do...my classes are all out to get me, I swear. ;-; I have a snow day today so I will have plenty of time to update- so happy reading!**

 _"Hey, don't write yourself off yet_

 _It's only in your head you feel left out_

 _Or looked down on_

 _Just do your best_

 _Do everything you can_

 _And don't you worry_

 _About what their bitter hearts are gonna say"-_

Jimmy Eat World, "The Middle."

Chapter Six

The white rim of the toilet has become so familiar to me that I almost find it humorous. Morning sickness has definitely got me down.

I wipe leftover tuna from my cracked lips and lean against the cool cabinet, next to the toilet. I fumble into my pocket and pull out my cell phone, my clammy hands greasing the blue screen.

I decide to call Savanna. It's about time I tell her the news.

Leonard is back at work, so I have the house to myself today. I don't mind it, in all honesty. It will give me some time to think, and to make wedding plans. Wedding plans! I have also almost forgotten that I'm engaged. A year ago I wouldn't have dreamed life would be this damn good. It's almost ironic.

Savanna picks up on the third ring. "Hello." Her voice sounds nasally and scratchy, and she doesn't sound quite awake yet. She's probably hungover.

"Savanna, I'm pregnant." I don't bother beating around the bush. I've kept her in the dark for too long anyways.

"Holy shit!" She's definitely awake now, and I can almost envision her scrambling awake, eyes widened and face flushed. "Seriously? Congratulations! God, I'm so happy for you."

She makes me smile, as usual. "Thanks. I'm happy, too. It's Leonard's."

Savanna laughs. "Well, I'd hope so." I hear her light a cigarette. "How far along are you?"

"About three weeks." My leg cramps, and I grimace, stretching it out in front of me. "We've already gone to an ultrasound."

Savanna makes a disapproving clucking sound with her tongue. "Giirll, you told your boyfriend before you told your best friend? Hoes before bros!"

I chortle at the sound of our old catchphrase. "Of course. I got super busy."

"Too busy for your best friend?" She sounds more playful than friendly. She takes a long drag on her cigarette, exhaling into the phone. "For real, I'm superhappy for you, though."

"Thank you, it means a lot." I pause, reaching up to grab a strand of hair to twine through my fingers, but then remember I cut it. "Tell ya what. Are you free Friday night? I'll take you out for dinner. Just me and you. Girl's night. No boys allowed."

"Damn right," Savanna proclaims, and I hear the sound of sheets moving on the other line. She lowers her voice. "I'm caught up with Justin right now. We haven't talked in a few weeks and I've kind of neglected him. I think he's pissed. We finally had sex last night."

I cringe. "Too much info, 'Vanna." I assume Justin is her latest hostile takeover. "So, girl's night Friday?"

"You got that right! I gotta go. Justin's getting antsy. Talk to you later?" Her vocal fry lingers on the latter.

"Of course." We say our goodbyes and hang up.

I smile, pocketing my phone. I always feel better after talking to Savanna. She's a little ditzy and kind of boy crazy, but she's still my best friend. I can't leave her. I can't discount those nights where we smoked marijuana in the back of our cars and dissed the boys who hurt us.

I nibble on some crackers and hope that it will stay down, puttering around the house and cleaning while _Desperate_ _Housewives_ plays on the TV in the living room. Sometimes, I don't even watch TV while I'm home alone- I just turn it up so it doesn't get so lonely.

Leonard gets home at three. I'm bored as hell, but I don't want to be one of those girls who only lives for their boyfriend. I'm on maternity leave for now, but will have to return once the baby is born. I can't remember the last time I didn't work.

In any case, I look forward to me and Savanna's girls' night out.

 ***TBBT TBBT TBBT***

I'm not lonely. But I am so bored that I am practically asleep by the time Leonard gets home.

"Sophie, honey?" I sit up groggily, rubbing my eyes. "I'm home."

"Hey." I let out a yawn. "How was work?"

"Harrowing," he sighs, sinking into the couch cushions beside me. He looks tired, disheveled; like he hasn't rested in days. His glasses are foggy.

"Why harrowing?" I press my fingers into his shoulders and massage his muscles.

He sighs again, reaching behind his glasses and rubbing his eyes. "Wolowitz and I are working on a huge project, and Sheldon is taking over the thing, as usual. We told him that if he wants to take over a project that he should just work on his own. And, well, things kind of went downhill from there."

I rest my head on his shoulder. "Oh Leonard, I'm sure everything will pan out just fine. He'll get over it sooner or later, right?"

Leonard shrugs, broad shoulders rising and falling. "You know how he is… It's his way or no way."

"Maybe you should take a break?" Now I'm hesitant to bring up wedding plans in the first place. He's already too stressed out with work. Wedding plans would just double the anxiety. "Call it a night for a couple days. Then, see if Sheldon's gotten over his little spell."

"Maybe. I guess I'll try that." But he sounds defeated. "Sorry. I'm just really tired. Not to mention my mother called and she's coming to visit. She wants to meet you. Is that okay?"

"Of course that's okay." She can't be as bad as Leonard makes her out to be. I'm not defending her by any means, but she's not heartless. "Why wouldn't it be?"

"I-I don't know…" Leonard lets out a short breath, rubbing his face.

"Do you need to talk about things?" Maybe I should be like Dr. Phil. And get my own talk show. Ooh...talk about big bucks.

Leonard's face flushes. "I have pretty low self-esteem, yanno? And her criticism...sometimes goes a little too far."

I nod. "I understand. If it makes you feel better, I'll tell her we have plans and that she should come another time."

"No, no, no." Leonard sits up, leaning against the cushions for support, and presses his back against the arm of the couch. "Of course she can still come. I just...I need to work through this, that's all."

I nod again. "Okay," I say apprehensively, rubbing my forehead with my thumb.

"What's wrong?" He throws his leg over mine.

"Nothing. I think it's a headache. Hormones, I guess." I rub my forehead again and rest my head against the couch. "Have you thought up any names?" I know I want to wait until we know its gender to decide on a name for sure, but it will help with the anticipation to brainstorm.

"Nada." Leonard closes his eyes and cuddles further into the cushions, against my side. "You?"

"No." I don't have to rush it. What if it would be better to wait until the baby is born, so we could get to know his/her personality and see what name fits him/her? "Hey, you know that crazy psychic lady we saw?" I know she's probably more than a fraud, but somehow I can't seem to get her from the back of my mind. "I think we should see her again."

"You said it yourself, she's a nutjob." His voice is muffled by the cushions.

"I know, but…" I exhale through my nose, my chest rising and falling. "I feel like we should. I don't know. Maybe I'm going crazy."

"You're not going crazy," Leonard chuckles, his foot brushing tentatively against mine. "But I guess it wouldn't hurt to see her again. Maybe I have some unfinished business I need to confront her about, too."

 ***TBBT TBBT TBBT***

The dark room of Crystal Blue psychic shop glows with candles and stars. A Joni Mitchell song plays softly on the overhead radio. Tiki charms and skulls line the walls, along with potions, sage, and herbs. I stifle a snicker. Looks like not much has changed since our first date. _She's not a psychic, she's a New Age hippie chick._ I'm sorry, but it's hard to take someone who makes people pay her to tell you your future.

"Um...Madame Pomfre?" I call anxiously, shifting my weight. She might be on break. Do psychics get breaks?

The silver beads in the doorway across from us are pushed aside, and Madame Pomfre, dressed in her usual gauzy steampunk attire, stands in the door. "Yes?" Her pixie/faux hawk is blue this time. She must be loaded, if she's able to bleach her hair out this often. Of course she's loaded, if she's the alleged psychic she claims she is. God, I sound like a judgmental bitch. I need to take it down a notch, or _three_.

"We're here for a...a reading," Leonard stammers out. Without me near his side, I think he would have fainted. I'm starting to wonder if he has some serious social anxiety. _Oh wait, that's me._

She looks us up and down. Her lips are black, and her eyes are rimmed with kohl-eyeliner, and I think those are black contacts she's wearing. They have to be black contacts- no one's natural eye color is that hue, unless they're possessed, and that's only in movies.

"You are uncomfortable?" _No shit, Sherlock._ It doesn't take a psychic to notice that.

"Not at all." For her sake, I try to keep the sarcasm out of my voice. "Can we have our reading, or what?" I hate to seem rude, but I'm not paying ten bucks to stand there for thirty minutes.

"Of course." She smiles at me, small, square-shaped white teeth showing. "Sit down, sit down." Her faux-Transylvanian accent is back. I wonder if she's channeling Dracula. Madame sits down in her designated chair- a plush, velvet-red chair so tall that it looks like it came out of Dracula's castle itself- and shuffles tarot cards. "Individually, or both?"

"I'll go first," Leonard volunteers apprehensively, sliding into the chair across from her.

"What would you like to know?" Madame is done sorting her tarot cards, and she pushes them in a circle between she and Leonard.

He takes a deep breath, pales, then says, "Will the project at work turn out okay?"

I give him a weird look. _Really?_ He's in front of an alleged psychic, and that's all he can think up to ask?

Madame Pomfre pulls the Joni Mitchell CD from the CD player, and inserts a different CD. Native-American shaman chants start to hum from the CD player, and she sways, her arms lifting in a prophetic-like way.

When she's not looking I take the chance and roll my eyes.

She finally opens her eyes and sits down slowly, dark gaze landing on Leonard. "The spirits have proclaimed that your work will indeed become successful," she predicts, tapping her long black nails on the table, "but it will be a hard, long journey. Is that all?"

Leonard nods, and scoots over so I can join him.

Once I sit down, Madame Pomfre turns to me. "And what would you like to know, my dar-link?"

Here goes nothing. I inhale. "Will Leonard and I be successful?" We are a team. I know marriage is rough, and that at least 90% of marriages end in divorce- or worse- these days. I definitely don't want that to happen, but if we're just going to get divorced later in life, I don't want to get married in the first place. It would hurt too much.

The chants, this time some sort of mountain yodeling that sounds like an injured squirrel, blares from the speaker, and smoke rises from the candles.

Madame Pomfre takes Leonard and I's hand in hers, breathing deeply. Then, she opens her eyes once more. "You believe that getting married will solve all your problems. It will not. That is not the answer. The answer is...the answer is…" She hums along with the chants, swaying back and forth again, and breathes out. "I am sorry. Your time is up. For $15 I will tell you the answer."

"Forget it," I say flatly, standing. "I don't want to know." She is positively whack-o.

"Thanks for your time." Leonard gives her an almost apologetic look as he slips her a $10.

"Wait!" Madame Pomfre calls after us as we stumble out into the daylight.

We stop in our tracks. She's jogging toward us, grasping something in her palm. When she opens her hands, I see that it is a teal-colored crystal necklace. "Here. For protection." She slips it over my neck.

"How much do you want for it?" She can't be giving it to me free. If she is, she's a terrible saleswoman.

"No cost at all." Madame Pomfre shakes her head, and her circle earrings spin back and forth. I should start calling her Loopy. "I sense you are in danger. Keep that with you at all times."

Feeling more annoyed than protected, I shove my hands in my pockets and duck my head. After getting our little prediction, Leonard and I were planning on spending the day out together, but now I don't even know if I'm in the mood to do that.

I don't know if getting married will solve all my problems. And my sex life is definitely none of her business.

So why am I so bothered by what she has to say?


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N Okay, so I have set, hopefully, an update schedule. I put it on my profile if you'd like to take a look! I always write better when I have things in routine. However, I would like to note that there are a couple of trigger warnings in this chapter that I should mention-**

 **TW- Rape scene**

 **TW- physical harassment**

 **TW- domestic violence**

 **If the above warnings are in any way triggering, I'd skip over this chapter altogether, as it will be a little iffy for some. If any of you are in an abusive relationship, do NOT, DO NOT STAY WITH THE ABUSER. Call the DOMESTIC VIOLENCE HOTLINE and get HELP.**

 **But without further due, here's chapter 7!**

 _"Shrouded in proof_

 _You're the mystery_

 _You're truth that lives_

 _Within the world we see_

 _You're the hand that holds destiny_

 _And I can't pretend I don't know_

 _And I can't leave it alone"-_

Skillet, "Best Kept Secret."

Chapter Seven

I should probably tell my mother that I'm pregnant- not only pregnant, but engaged. She'll probably be furious that I've told my best friend and boyfriend but not her. Maybe I should neglect to mention that. I should start making a To-Do List.

I sit up, stretching, and pull the sheets off my legs, and look at the empty space beside me. Leonard's already gone to work. Today is Thursday, so I have to remember my Girl's Night Out with Savanna tomorrow night. I should probably call my mother before that. I wonder when Leonard's mom is coming. I make a mental note to ask him that when he gets back from work.

I inhale, step out of bed, pull off my pajamas, and shower.

 ***TBBT TBBT TBBT***

After pulling on a Barenaked Ladies T-shirt, ripped jeans, and combing out my hair, I look at myself in the mirror. My hair has started to grow out just a little- with several of the once-shaved pieces protruding from behind my ears.

I tuck the stray strands aside and run my hands through the back of my hair, where it's become more layered. I blow dry it even though it's practically as dry as the Sahara Desert.

As soon as I power the dryer off, I hear a soft knock at the door.

I bite my lip and enter the living room, prying the door open with my fingers. Penny, dressed in her pink, rainbow-patterned sweatshirt, ripped jeans that look like they're fresh out of Forever 21, and Converse, is standing in the doorway.

Her hand flies to her mouth and she gasps. "Did you get a haircut?" I nod. "It's darling! Where did you get it cut?"

"I did it myself." I smile meekly and run my fingers through one of the strands.

"Oh, honey, I need you to cut my hair." She laughs, tucking her shoulder-length hair behind her back. "Anyway, how did your ultrasound go?"

My cheeks turn pink to my embarrassment. I'm already becoming one of those mothers that doesn't have a life outside of her kid and the baby hasn't even been born. "It went amazing," I gush, tucking my hair behind my ear. "I'm about…" I pause, and hum, "Four weeks along now?"

Penny claps her hands together. "That is beyond awesome! I'm so happy for you two. Do you want a boy or a girl?"

I touch my stomach, the new extension of my abdomen revealing prominent signs of pregnancy. "We'll be happy with whatever gender it is."

"You're going to be an awesome mom," Penny coos, eyes twinkling. "Anyway, Bernadette and I are going out tonight and I was wondering if you'd like to join us? We'll go to an alcohol-free place, of course."

"Nah," I decline politely, retreating back into the apartment. "I don't want to spoil anyone's time…"

"Trust me, you won't!" Penny assures me, shaking her head fervently. Her platinum-blonde hair swings back and forth with the said motion. "If it helps, we can get you alcohol-free alcohol…"

"Alright, alright." I laugh, giving her a friendly shove. "What time?"

"We're leaving by eight," Penny says, shifting her weight against the wall. "You'll be there?"

"Damn right I will." It's been awhile since I've had actual fun. Don't get me wrong, Leonard is sweet and the best boyfriend I've ever had, but it's nice to go out with female comrades every once in awhile.

Penny's face lights up. "Consider it a date then, sweetie."

 ***TBBT TBBT TBBT***

"Ow!"

"Hold still!"

"Ow!"

"I said, hold still!" I grit my teeth and try not to jerk away as Penny twirls my hair in her fingers. She's convinced that you can braid a pixie cut, as many times as I tried to reason with her that you can't. She's pulled at least three or four strands from my head, and the way things are looking, I'm worried I'll be bald by the time we leave the apartment.

Meanwhile, Bernadette is juggling getting herself ready and doing my makeup. I'm probably not doing her any favors by blinking repeatedly while she's trying to do my mascara.

"Stop blinking." Bernadette uses her free hand to pry my eyes open. "The mascara will help your eyes pop."

"The only thing that's going to pop is my stomach," I grumble, and Penny jerks back on my hair again. "Ouch! Goddammit."

After several unnecessary F bombs being dropped and smeared faces, my makeup is finally done.

"Look!" Penny jerks me toward the mirror.

I'm wearing one of Penny's navy-blue crop tops (no way will I be caught dead in a hot pink bralette), white skinny jeans, and grey Converse high-tops. Penny has managed to braid several strands of my hair.

"You look gorgeous!" Bernadette crowes, clapping her hands and blushing like a schoolgirl. "Leonard is going to fall head over heels when he sees you."

"Tonight isn't about Leonard and me," I remind her, trying not to blink again. The mascara is stinging my eyes. "No Boys Allowed, remember?"

"Still." Bernadette's eyes twinkle behind her glasses. "He's going to love it!"

I stand and bite back a smile. Sure, both Bernadette and Penny are a little ditzy and not to mention way too counter-productive, but they're sweet.

"What's going on in here?" We all look up to see Leonard standing in the doorway. "It sounds like a bunch of injured cats in here." His eyes scan the room, and he whistles, taking visible note of the scattered clothes and ladies' undergarments on the floor. "Evacuate now, Hurricane Sophie strikes again, leaving no survivors."

"Stop it." I flick him on the chest with my fingers playfully, but then kiss him on the forehead to make up for it. "We'll be back before ten," I say softly as Penny and Bernadette head out to the hallway.

"Have fun." Leonard smiles at me shyly, like a puppy.

"That's one thing I can promise," I vow, before reaching into the jewelry box and tucking the "protection" chain from Madame Pomfre in the back of my jean's pocket and slip out the door.

Not that I believe her or anything.

But just in case.

 ***TBBT TBBT TBBT***

Ray's Brewery looks more like a shack than a bar, but there's good food, good drinks, and even better music, so that stands for something.

The bouncer eyes Penny's chest, making it obvious he's attracted to her, complete with the obnoxious wolf whistle. "How much you in for, baby?"

"Shove it, asshole," Penny says sweetly, batting her eyelashes, but he grins and stamps her hand. "I'm in it for free."

"A feisty one, eh?" The bouncer arches his eyebrows. "Well, that's the way I-"

"Just let us in, dickhead!" Bernadette cuts in, disgust evident in her voice.

"Sor-ry." He sounds like a little kid who's just done something wrong, but stamps our hands and allows us entry. "Have fun. Oh, and stay away from the bar," he adds to Penny.

"I'm above age!" Penny reassures him, miming smoke stacks with her fingers, as we head to the bar.

Almost nothing is alcohol-free, but what else can you expect with a grungy place like this? All the girls here look trashy, and the guys not much better.

Bernadette must have read my mind because she leans in and whispers, "Don't worry. You'll feel much better once you start having fun."

I shift in my seat uncomfortably, wondering if I should just go back home. Something about this place feels weird. Maybe it's my intuition- does that increase in pregnant women?- but the guys all look like they're not only on the prowl for naive, innocent girls, but up to no good. The testosterone levels in this joint are high as hell.

"Vodka," Bernadette says idly, at the same time Penny says, "Gotcha beat. Whiskey."

"She'll have a root beer," I hear Penny say, and I assume she's referring to me, and the bartender nods and sidles off to fetch our drinks. The lights dim, and "Foxy Lady" by Jimi Hendrix blares through the overhead radio.

A guy with a buzz cut in an AC/DC T-shirt plops down next to Penny and puts his arm around her. "My, my," he drawls, looking her up and down, "did it hurt when you fell from heaven?"

"No," Penny responds smoothly, "but it did hurt when you stepped on my toe."

"Oh!" He laughs, smacking his forehead with his palm. "I'm so sorry. Here, let me make it up to you." He fishes in his pocket and deposits cash. "I'll buy you a drink. Yay or nay?"

Bernadette and Penny look at each other. "Hm," Penny hums, a playful smirk tugging at her lips. "I don't know. What do you think, girls? Should he buy me a drink? Or...should I leave him hanging?"

"Oh, what the hell," the guy says dismissively, looking almost tortured. "I'll buy you all a drink."

"I have a boyfriend," Bernadette and I say dully, and I touch my stomach, hoping he'll back off and get the point.

The guy scratches the back of his neck. "Two unavailable girls? Well, shit." He feigns defeat, then grins and wheels back around to face Penny. "I'm Shane. Whom do I owe the pleasure to?"

"That sounds like a douchebag name," I remark, and Bernadette snorts with laughter.

Penny sips her drink, spinning the plastic umbrella in circles with her fingers. "I'm Stormy. Pleasure to meet you, Shane."

I bite my lip to hide a grin.

"The pleasure's all mine, lovely lady," Shane purrs, and I try not to throw up. Leonard is much classier than any of the college dudes in this place. Good thing I'm unavailable. I better start acting like it.

"Well, I'd better back to my girls," Penny tells the guy. "I'll give you my number. Here." She uses her napkin and scribbles down a number with the pencil lying on the counter.

He takes it from her and grins, slipping it into his back pocket. "It's been a pleasure," he says gratefully, and stalks off, molding into the crowd of other greasy, horny guys.

Penny does a fist-pump of triumph and turns to the counter.

"Please," Bernadette says with a groan, "don't tell me you gave him your actual number."

"Oh please, do you think I'm defected?" Penny makes a disapproving sound. "I told him my number was eight-six-seven-five-three-o-nine."

We all look at each other and burst out laughing, causing the guys across from us to peer over in curiosity. "Besides, he was practically begging at my feet- who wants a guy like that anyway?"

A Stevie Ray Vaughan song comes on the radio, and we all get up, the crowd melting into an unplanned flash mob. Penny tries to do the twist, but it more or less looks like she's lost her lunch, which is just how she dances.

Bernadette is doing the bump-and-grind with some guy in dreadlocks, and I'm feeling oddly out of place, until a guy pulls me into a twirl.

I can barely make him out through the foggy haze of cigarette smoke and alcohol condensation, but I can tell he's trying to lure me in. I try not to act annoyed and dance, if you can call it dancing. He looks like he's participating in some wild tribal ritual.

The song winds down to a slow one, and he wipes sweat beads off his forehead. "That was fun," he yells over the chatter. "I don't dance as much as I'd like to!"

"I bet you do," I grumble under my breath as a girl in a skimpy blue dress brushes up against me.

"What was that?" He cups his hand over his ear and leans closer to me. _Weirdo._

I jerk away. "I said, you can really move!"

He laughs, rubbing his face. "You, too," he says. "You, too."

I scurry off to find Penny and Bernadette, who have found their way back to the bar and are drinking water.

"What the hell was that?" Penny laughs, water sloshing onto her cleavage and snaking down her shirt.

"I don't even think that was dancing," Bernadette remarks. "It was more like a first-century Pagan ritual."

"Shut up," I snap, my head pounding. "Like you have room to talk."

"Oh, don't mind her," Penny says, when Bernadette looks hurt. "It's just her raging hormones. Right, Sophie?"

"Right," I say flatly, rubbing the sides of my neck with my fingers. " _That's_ what it is." I stand, swaying slightly. "I'm gonna use the bathroom," I tell them. "Stay here, so I can find you."

"Will do!" Penny wiggles the tips of her fingers as I gratefully dive into the little girl's room. It's a small, cramped, one-stall bathroom with graffiti and a cracked, dusty, mirror, but it's better than peeing outside. After relieving myself, I splash cold water on my face and take deep breaths. Even though the door is closed and locked, I can still feel the bass from the music vibrating in my chest and through the floor.

 _This place blows._ I sigh and tuck my hair behind my ears.

On the walls are slurs, curse words, and altogether sexual phrases, poorly-drawn images of genitals, written in marker or spray paint. One has a heart with the initials "H and S" scribbled in the middle. Above the mirror, someone wrote **"GOD IS GOOD."** Someone obviously must have disagreed with that statement, because right next to it is a very bold **"NO FUCK YOU"** sprayed in bright red ink.

I shake my head and unlock the door, stepping into the dim light of the bar. I need some air. I suck in a deep breath and slide out the back door into the alley, hoping no one will notice.

I miss smoking, but know it can't be good for the baby. Kids whose parents smoked are royally fucked up for the rest of their lives. I don't think I could live with myself if I did that to another human being, much less a child. Instead, I suck in the good, fresh air of the city. Okay, more like polluted air of the city. But it's much better than the stuffy, alcohol-drenched air of the bar, tainted with testosterone and raging estrogen.

"There she is!" Bernadette and Penny slip out from behind the door, giggling wildly. They both look drunk.

"This place sucks," Bernadette proclaims, stamping her foot with the statement. "Let's go find some good guys."

"I want a good guy," Penny agrees- more like slurs. "God, why are all the good guys taken?"

"Actually, I think you guys have had enough," I say hesitantly, tapping my foot against the wall. "It's almost eleven. We should really head home…"

"Aww!" They both protest in unison.

"Come on, let's go back to the car." I roll my eyes, trying to think up a reason why anyone would want to be drunk. Now that I've cut back on drinking and smoking, it doesn't seem as appealing. Sometimes, Penny and Bernadette don't realize that they're high school days are over.

I lead them through the dirty parking lot that looks like a scene from a horror movie and into Leonard's car- that he kindly let us borrow. I'm glad I'm sober- the sooner we're home and safe, the better.

Penny and Bernadette scramble into the backseat, slamming the doors enthusiastically and burst into giggles again.

The car beside us is stock still, but obviously not empty. Two shadows move back and forth, one more forced and exaggerated than the other. Loud music vibrates from inside the car, muffled grunts and feminine squeals layered beneath it.

I wrinkle my nose, preparing to pull out of the parking lot, but then stop myself. The smaller shadow underneath the big shadow kicks, sending the big shadow against the window. I hear a slap.

"Oh my God," I whisper, and open the door as quickly as I can. The girls aren't sober enough to dial 911- I'll have to do it myself. But my heart is pounding so forcefully and my legs are so shaky that I can barely stand.

I peer into the window, cupping my hands around my eyes for tunnel vision.

A guy and a girl lie on the backseat, the girl underneath him. I recognize the guy from the bar- Shane- the one with the buzz cut that tried to hit on Penny.

The guy is moving slowly, with deliberate rhythm, and the girl is frozen, eyes widened and face terrified.

My heart pounds faster, and I discreetly reach into my pocket for my cell phone. Shane looks over his shoulder and rolls the window. "Hey- what the fuck are you doing? Leave me and the girl alone!"

"Is she your girlfriend?" What a sleazebag, if she is- he's clearly been cheating on her if he goes out to bars looking for other women.

His eyes narrow. "What's it to you?" Underneath the childish retort lies something akin to protectiveness.

"Is the sex consensual?" I bite my lip, dreading the answer I hope is not the case.

"I got her a little drunk," he tells me as the girl struggles to sit up. "She's had a few. She can really hold her liquor, that's for sure." He laughs as if it's an inside joke.

My stomach lurches. "Is she your girlfriend, Shane?" He looks up when I say his name.

"We're not serious," Shane sputters out, clearly taken aback. He's probably never been challenged like this before. "We've been going out for a few months now. Isn't that right, babe?"

His gravelly voice makes my skin crawl.

The girl is still struggling to sit up. "Help!" Her voice is slurred, but the command desperate. "I-I can't-"

I've seen enough. I pull my phone out of my pocket and dial 911.

 _"911, what's your emergency?"_

 _"We have a possibility of a domestic violence case off on Route 21. Please send police and ambulance. Thank you."_

 _"Thank you for reporting. The police are on their way. Please stay on the line so we know you're alright."_

 _"It's not me. It's a girl I know."_

 _"What's happening to her?"_

 _"I'm not sure. She's in the car with this guy Shane, and I think he's trying to rape her. She keeps saying 'help.'_

 _"Well, the police are on their way so can you-"_

The dispatcher is cut off by a shrill scream, causing all of our heads to turn in the direction of the car. Shane is not only on top of the girl, but forcing himself into her. As I look closer, I note that her blue skirt is hanging halfway off the car seat and onto the floor. She's putting up a struggle, her face pale and tears stinging at her eyes. She mouths the words, "Help me."

"Don't worry, sweetie," I say discreetly, my heart breaking. "Help is on the way."

She screams again as he delivers a forceful punch to her face. "I told you not to talk to him! Not to talk to anyone! You keep your fuckin' mouth shut, you hear me?"

She says nothing, but her shoulders shake with violent sobs as she sinks against the window.

"And what the hell are you looking at?" Shane snarls, glaring at us. "Get the fuck outta here- all you."

Bernadette touches my shoulder, alarm in her eyes. "Sophie? What's going on?"

"I don't know," I say in a low voice. "I just know he's abusing her. That's all I know."

"Shit," Penny breathes, allowing her head to hit the back of the seat. I notice she's thrown up on the floor. Great.

But alcohol-induced vomit is the least of our problems at the moment.

By the time the police arrive, the girl is bloodied and torn, her face a wreck.

"It's okay, sweetie." I rub her back in circles as the police pull Shane off of her, slamming him to the ground and putting him in handcuffs. "Everyone's gonna be okay. He's gone now." I don't know if things are going to be okay, but it's the least I can do. That's what you're supposed to say if someone's crying.

The girl's mousy-brown hair is tangled, awry in different directions across her face, and her eyes wide, a deer-in-the-headlights glint to them. She's only in a blouse and underpants now.

"Here." I kneel down and help her back into her skirt. "Do you have any parents or guardians you can go to?"

She shakes her head. "Just my mom. She's all I've got. She's out of town, though…." She drifts off, something else clearly on her mind.

"Well, we can figure all that out when the police take you to the hospital," I say softly as she straightens out the plates to her skirt.

"The hospital?" Her head jerks up, her braids shaking violently as she protests. "I can't go there!"

I wonder why she's so set against going to the hospital.

"They won't hurt you," I tell her. "They'll help clean you up and get some information about Shane so he can't hurt you ever again."

The girl bursts into tears, sinking down to her feet on the parking lot concrete.

I pull her close and allow her to cry into my shoulder. "What's your name, hun?"

She takes a deep, quivery breath, and gulps out, "Alison. But my friends call me Ali."

I pat her back gently. "This isn't the first time he's hurt you, is it?"

She shakes her head.

My heart threatens to break into a billion little pieces. "Can you tell me what happened tonight?"

Ali pales, glances over her shoulder, and whispers, "I talked to another guy...just the bartender...but Shane didn't like it. He told me he'd punish me if I talked to another guy again, and he did. We've been together for six months, and, well, it stared getting bad in the middle. I-I didn't know what to think at first, it was little pushes and shoves when I didn't want sex, and it got worse and worse and I didn't know how to tell anyone, not even my mom, and I tell her everything..."

"Excuse me, ma'am?" A female police officer with a pixie cut not unlike mine steps protectively next to Ali. "Are you acquaintances or friends of this girl?"

"No." I smile grimly. "We're the ones that found her...like this." I gesture to the crime scene.

The police officer grimaces, her features softening. "Well, she's in good hands now," she assures me, her hard police-officer voice gone. "As far as we're concerned, this man will never hurt her again." She puts her hands on her hips, staring out at the police man who are dragging a protesting Shane to the police cars. "You know, that's not the first complaint we've received about him."

"Are you gonna lock him up?" My stomach twists at the thought of a woman-abusing nutjob like him roaming free.

"Of course." She grins at me. "It's just too damn bad we let him free in the first place. Unfortunately, the victim didn't press charges, so we didn't have the right to lock him up, as you put it."

Ali is trembling like a frightened child, pressed up against me. "Ali," I say softly, standing, "you have to press charges. He can't go away if we can't stop him. Do you give consent for charges?"

She bursts into tears but nods.

"Is that a yes from the victim?" The police officer gazes at her hopefully, but with respect.

"I'd say yes." I smile at the police officer, who breaks into a grin.

"Come on, hun." The police officer helps Ali stand. "Let's get you to the hospital."

The two start to walk in the direction of the ambulance.

"Wait!" I fish into my pocket. I'm not sure if she'll stick to the charges, but I can at least do something- even if it's just little, the thought counts. The thought of Ali being constantly abused by that man makes me sick. "Here."

Ali turns around, her eyes still shimmering, as I press the necklace that Madame Pomfre gave me.

She looks down, her eyes widening, and her palm flies to meet her mouth. "I can't take this- this is like taking money!"

I shake my head. "No, no, it didn't cost me a thing," I reassure her. "Even if it did, I probably still would. It's a protection charm- to keep you safe from harm." I know the police are probably looking at me like I'm a whacko, but I don't care. "Stay safe, sweetie." I put the necklace around her neck, and she looks up at me and smiles, before the police officer helps her into the ambulance.

Hopefully the charm will live up to its name.


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N Well well you know what they say life's a bitch, and so is school. I'm really busy with school, so life is hectic. I don't know if I mentioned this before (I have the memory of a rock and the attention span of a spoon), but until summer I will only be updating on weekends. I miss writing! Summer probably won't be too busy, so I can update more consistently. My apologies for such slow updates!**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own the Big Bang Theory. All characters you recognize belong to their respective creators. I only own Sophie. I also do not own any of the lyrics captioned before each chapter. All rights go to their original owners, respectively.**

 _"And I'll love her yet_

 _She has done me wrong_

 _And I'll bring her back_

 _Though she has been long gone_

 _And I'll always be her_

 _Broken-hearted savior"_ -

Big Head Todd & the Monsters, "Broken Hearted Savior."

Chapter Eight

To say that Penny and Bernadette were hungover the next morning is an understatement. I allowed them to crash on my couch last night since they were both too wasted to make it to their designated apartments. I tell them that they have to leave by noon, and through dry heaves and coughs, they nod.

Now that I can't drink, I don't really see what the appeal is. Maybe pregnancy will help fight back my initial alcohol addiction. See? I just admitted that I have an alcohol problem. What is it that they say in AA? The first step to solving your problem is realizing you have one, or something like that.

While Penny and Bernadette sleep off their hangover, I sit at my computer and Google the things you aren't supposed to eat and/or drink during pregnancy.

So far, I've discovered that you can't eat deli meat (contains listeria, which can cause a miscarriage), fish with mercury (causes developmental delays and brain damage in infant), raw eggs or any foods that contain raw eggs (salmonella), soft cheese (again, listeria, and pasteurized milk), unwashed vegetables (toxoplasmosis), for some reason, any form of herbal tea and sweet tea, (which sucks, 'cause sweet tea is my fave), and of course, any amount of alcohol. I'd rather go without a single drip of alcohol or sweet tea for nine months than end up with a hurt baby.

"Sophie?" I jump when Leonard's voice breaks through my studying.

"Oh, hi." I turn around in the spinny office chair. "I forgot to mention that I let Penny and Bernadette stayed over last night."

"I can see that."

"I hope you don't mind."

"I don't."

"Are you sure? It might be a bit weird, having your ex-girlfriend-"

"It's fine, I promise." Leonard massages my shoulders with his fingers. "We're about to get married. You're pregnant. I'm over her. I promise." He picks me up, carries me to our bedroom, and together, we lie in silence, bodies entwined.

"I'm over her," he says again as I undo his pants.

From the distant, glassy look in his eyes, I wonder if it's me he's trying to convince, or himself….

 ***TBBT TBBT TBBT***

I am now 16 weeks along. Morning sickness has me down most days, but the bulge in my stomach is more prominent, to the point where strangers are starting to notice that I'm pregnant.

Today, we find out the baby's gender. I'm practically radiating with excitement. The past month or so, I've been staying away from alcohol and anything that could harm the baby, writing them down on a notepad whenever I go grocery shopping.

We sit in the waiting room, anxiously awaiting our names to be called. We still haven't figured out a name for the baby. That riveting realization sends a jolt of panic through me. Whenever we try to pick a name, we both end up arguing about it. ("Sophia?" "No. Sounds too much like Sophie." "Leonarda?" "No, that's stupid. Pick a different name.") So, we're stuck. Maybe I can look up some unique baby names on a baby website when I get home.

We did have our first argument the other night. It was pretty stupid, actually. It was more of a small bicker than an argument. It had been over living space and routine- we'd bickered over organization. Leonard's side of the room looked like a pig sty, while mine looked more like the cleaning isle at Walmart. I didn't like how he always came to bed later than me- usually after watching an anime episode or Star Trek, he tutted around for half an hour in the kitchen, making as much noise as possible (even if it was non-purposeful) until I yelled at him to come to bed.

"Hofstadter?" We rise from our seats as soon as our names are called. He's just as excited as I am.

Dr. Pantall, the same blonde-haired, blue-eyed, cheerful woman whom we'd had at the last appointment walks us into the ultrasound room. "Excited?" She asks as she sets me up on the bed, placing the stickers on my stomach and hooking them up to the monitor.

"Very," Leonard and I confirm in unison, and I smile as he plays with my fingers.

"I bet! Being a first time parent is amazing." She draws the mouse-like tool around my stomach. "Have you picked out any names yet?"

"No," I admit, shaking my head. "Not yet."

"It's good not to rush. Maybe you could wait until after it's born," she says, narrowing her eyes at the charcoal-colored screen, "so you can see the baby's personality."

"We didn't consider that." Leonard rubs his thumb against mine as my heart pounds against my chest.

I lift my head, craning so I can see the screen. "Is it there?"

"It's really hard to see…" Dr. Pantall clucks her tongue. "Hang on a minute." She messes around more with the monitor. "Ah-ha."

I feel a rush of excitement flutter in my chest. This is it!

I have been waiting for this moment for four months. I can't believe I'm finally here.

 _We._ I can't believe _we're_ here.

Leonard and I are a team. He's excited, too.

The screen is shadowy and disoriented, but I can make out a small fetus in the center of the screen.

Dr. Pantall lets out a frustrated breath of air. "Something's not right."

At this my heart rate excellerates. "What?" My voice is barely audible to my own ears.

Dr. Pantall chews on her lip, then leans toward the screen. "It's really tiny…" I can't hear her over the rush of blood to my ears.

"It's there, isn't it?" Leonard leans over me, both hands on the bed.

"Darn. I'll be right back," Dr. Pantall assures us quickly before sidling into the other room.

I hear doors slamming, followed by Dr. Pantall's voice, even though it's quieter than before.

 _What the hell is going on here?_

She finally wades back into the room. "Sorry! I'm back." She gives the monitor one last look. "I'm afraid I have some bad news."

Leonard and I exchange nervous glances.

"Is it...okay?" I finally manage to ask through the lump in my throat. "Is it a boy or a girl?"

Dr. Pantall sighs. "Sit down, please."

I ease myself back onto my pillow, realizing I'd sat up, gripping the sides of the bed with my hands in anticipation.

Leonard is still standing, despite Dr. Pantall's suggestion. I guess it makes him feel like he's in control of something.

She exhales again, closes her eyes, then delivers the punch that I'll never forget: "There's no heartbeat."

My stomach drops. "But...but...it's right there!" I jerk my thumb at the monitor. "See the shadow? It's right there…." I drift off into a helpless whimper.

Dr. Pantall shakes her head. "You've lost the baby," she says softly, placing her hand on mine and giving it a squeeze. Her skin is moist and warm and she smells like hand sanitizer. "I'm so sorry."

I look at Leonard, who's standing stock still, gaping at the monitor in shock. No words are coming out of his mouth.

 _Tell her that it's there, Leonard! Tell her we still have the baby!_

Dr. Pantall looks like she just eaten something bad and it made her feel sick. "I'll give you two a minute." She pats the top of my hand before slipping out the door.

 _But... it was just there!_

I stare at the monitor and try to listen for a heartbeat, but to no avail. The fetus is still, silent, a vacant shell.

I press my face into my hands, barely feeling Leonard as he pulls me close.

And I'm falling, a downward, never-ending spiral...


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N That took a rather depressing turn, now didn't it? I warned you that this story was gonna contain a shit-ton of angst. Let's check in on Leonard and Sophie, shall we? We'll also switch POV's in a little while and see what's going on in his brilliant mind.**

 **First, please may I add a couple more trigger warnings that the rest of the story will contain before we start the next chapter.**

 **TW- suicidal ideation/self-harm/suicide attempt**

 **TW- alcohol/substance abuse**

 **TW- mature content/18+ scenario(s)**

 **TW- miscarriage recovery**

 **TW- miscarriage grief/post-postpartum depression**

 **NATIONAL SUICIDE HOTLINE: 1-800-273-8255**

 **That's all for now, folks. If you're sensitive to these topics, please proceed with caution.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own the Big Bang Theory. I only own Sophie. Nor do I own any song lyrics captioned prior to every chapter. You have my word.**

 _"Sometimes it's hard to hold on_

 _So hard to hold on to my dreams_

 _It isn't always what it seems_

 _When you're face to face with me_

 _You're like a dagger, and stick me in the heart_

 _And taste the blood from my blade_

 _And when we sleep, would you shelter me_

 _In your warm and darkened grave?"-_

Ozzy Osbourne & Lita Ford, "Close My Eyes Forever."

Chapter Nine

The walk to the parking lot is a vertigo-laced blur. I know I'm awake, but somehow I feel as if I'm in a dream- no, not a dream...a terrible nightmare that will never end. I keep pinching at the skin on my wrist in a feeble attempt to awaken myself, to pull myself out of the nightmare, but to no avail. Eventually Leonard tells me to stop or I'll hurt myself. I gnaw on the inside of my cheek and swallow a scream. At this point I don't even care if I hurt myself. It wouldn't matter either way. What is left for me in this world, anyhow?

I mindlessly slide into the passenger seat, and Leonard takes the driver's side. I buckle, adjusting the seatbelt. I feel as if my body is not mine- I am watching a movie of someone else's life, a stranger peeking into the world of another human's. Is this what trauma really feels like? I'm alive, but my soul is gone. I'm a walking, talking, robotic corpse. That is all that is left of me.

I stare out the window, rubbing my eyes mechanically.

Leonard speaks up as we pull out of the parking lot: "You know...we can try again- if you want."

I open my mouth to reply, but barely a sound comes out; a strained squeak, almost like that of a frightened, cornered animal.

Leonard sighs and rakes his fingers through his hair with one hand, turning his eyes back to the road.

I want to make him feel better. I know this must be affecting him, too. But I feel as if my words will just make things worse. I'm unpredictable, a ticking time bomb, prepared to explode at any given moment. I will hurt people more than help people.

One warm, big hand envelopes mine, and I realize that Leonard is trying to comfort me. I feel hot, salty liquid brim at the duct of my eyelids, and I finally burst, allowing the sorrow to cascade freely down my cheeks, a waterfall of my hurt.

A pit of hopelessness forms in the bottom of my stomach.

I hope to God that I never stop crying.

Because the day I stop crying is the day I'll stop caring.

Then, I'll become a real danger to the world.

 ***TBBT TBBT TBBT***

I want to go to sleep and never wake up again.

I robotically amble to the darkened bedroom, collapsing with a weary sigh onto the mattress. Even though I know I'll become a danger to the world if (when) I stop caring, I wish I could just numb myself to stop caring. Things would be so much easier if I didn't care.

I place my palm on the small bump on my stomach and let out a strained moan, my head falling against the pillow.

The door opens, but I'm too exhausted to even lift my head or acknowledge Leonard's presence.

 _What did I do to deserve this?_

Leonard sits on the bed next to me, and I feel the bed shift under his weight. "Do you need anything?" His voice penetrates my cotton fortress, the wall that I have built up around myself. "Some tea or water?"

I shake my head and press my face into the pillow.

I know what I want. I want to close my eyes forever. Never wake up to this world again. There's no point in my being here. I'll just cause everyone, including Leonard, more grief. I want people to understand what I'm going through, but at the same time I do not wish my pain on anyone. No one deserves to feel what I feel.

A pained sigh escapes my lips.

 _Why does caring have to hurt so much?_

 ***TBBT TBBT TBBT***

 ** _*LEONARD'S POV*_**

I don't know what to say. How to react. How to comfort her. How to do anything.

What is it like? To lose apart of yourself? To lose something that you, yourself, created?

I should know. But as a male, I can't conceive. I can only help create what had been destroyed.

People say everything happens for a reason. But I respectfully disagree. The Holocaust didn't happen for a reason. The fatal slaughtering of 20 kindergarteners in 2012 didn't happen for a reason. The bombing of Syria's people didn't happen for a reason. Sudden infant death syndrome certainly doesn't happen for a reason, nor does miscarriage. It's all proof that prayer doesn't do shit.

That's why I don't "do" religion. If there is a God, he's a pretty sick, sociopathic bastard.

I wait until Sophie is fast asleep before draping a blanket over her and heading out to the kitchen. I feel useless to her. How can I comfort her? I'm the cause of this mess- a forever reminder that I am the catalyst of her loss.

I'm not usually a drinker, but maybe alcohol can assist me, at least for a little bit. I open the fridge, take out the jug of wine, and pour myself a cup, and force myself to drink before sitting on the couch and sinking into the cushions.

I grab the remote and lean back for a _Star Wars_ marathon.

As much as a fanatic I am for the serious, I just can't concentrate. My mind keeps wandering, tornadoing back to the darker thoughts. I used to think that suicide was stupid and selfish, but now I can understand why people do it. Suicidal people don't want to end their lives- they want the pain, humiliation, and suffering to end. It's the last straw when there's no hope.

It's so tempting- a temptation that you will yourself not to fall into. It becomes an everlasting addiction. Sadness and solitude are very addictive. Solitude, like sadness, becomes your only companion, and once you grow accustomed to being alone, you're too shocked to react, to say thank you, to display some ounce of gratitude, when someone comes along to keep you company.

I understand it all now.

I understand it all too well.

I grip my head in my hands, trying to fight off the evergrowing headache.

I hear the soft sound of feet padding through the hallway, and look up to see Sophie. Her hair is tangled and matty, spiraling in all directions like a mad scientist's (ha! See what I did there?), but somehow she still looks gorgeous, a natural beauty, the girl I fell in love with.

How could one person be so easy to fall in love with? She makes everything look easy- her natural elegance, her confidence, her ability to turn heads as soon as she steps into the room. (Yes, I'm aware that I sound like a cliche romantic comedy movie sound bite, but it's how I feel about her.) Her flaws, to me, are what make her perfect. That's what makes someone sexy.

"Hey, beautiful." I smile at her, the only thing I can be in control of now.

"Hey." She absentmindedly reaches her hand behind her ear, a habit she still holds onto; forgetting that she doesn't have bangs to tuck behind her ears now, and heads to the door.

"Where are you going?" The last thing I want to be is to be alone- I'm too afraid of what I might do- but I don't want to burden her. Poor Sophie already has enough to deal with. I'm only a reminder of her pain.

"Out," Sophie replies in a monotone voice, grabbing her car keys and pocketing them.

"Stay safe." I wish I could say the same for myself.

She nods mechanically and closes the door and locks it behind her.

I sigh and remove my glasses, rubbing my eyes until it seems like I'm spiraling into another dimension. As I wait for the initial dizziness to subside, I push my glasses back onto my nose.

The temptation is back, that forbidden line, that you never, ever want to cross.

 _Where are you when I need you the most?_

My nails sink into my wrist, pinpointing my veins. I dig into my skin, running my nails down my wrist, until tiny, pint-sized drops of blood drip onto the couch. It hurts, but then it starts to feel good.

 _You're gone, but I need you here._

And I know that I've finally crossed that dangerous line.

That dangerous line that you should never, ever, step over.


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N NATIONAL SUICIDE HOTLINE: 1-800-273-8255**

 **If you or a loved one is contemplating suicide or having suicidal thoughts, please call the number listed above. It is never too late and you are never alone.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own The Big Bang Theory or Leonard. But I do own his angst, Sophie, and the problems I give him. Capiche?**

 _"I wish I could be the one_

 _The one who won't care at all_

 _But being the one on the stand_

 _I know the way to go, no one's guiding me_

 _When time soaked with blood turns its back_

 _I know it's hard to fall_

 _Confided in me was your heart_

 _I know it's hurting you, but it's killing me"-_

Avenged Sevenfold, "Unholy Confessions."

Chapter Ten

 ***SOPHIE'S POV***

I don't know why I walked out. I'm not going anywhere. I don't have the strength to. It's like my whole body has become a blob of dysfunctional Jello. So, I sit in the car, with the radio on, humming softly.

The sky is turning grey, with clusters of white-grey clouds scattering the horizon. Tiny droplets of rain fall from the sky, clumping onto the car and obscuring the windshield. I don't even bother to turn the windshield wipers on. Even if I were going to go somewhere, I don't think I would have the heart to turn them on. The rain matches my mood. I can't cry, after all. So, just maybe, the sky is crying for me. Buckets and buckets of cold tears, spilling from the dam.

I don't think I'll ever be ready to go back inside, but I shut off the car and force myself. The rain pelts my back as I jog back to the apartment complex, the cool droplets of water sprinkling my hairline.

I clomp up the steps and open the door of our apartment to see Leonard sprawled out on the couch, eyes closed and in an awkward position. He's usually not an early-to-bed type of guy (unless it's a work night, and it's Saturday) so this is surprises me. Maybe he's just exhausted from the news. I know I am. I close the door behind me and toss the keys into the bowl near the door, stepping over to the couch. A half-empty wine cup rests on the arm of the couch, which I find way odder than Leonard falling asleep at eight PM on a Saturday night. He never drinks. Like, ever. I have to persuade him to have a teeny, tiny sip of champagne on Christmas, which is a task similar to pulling teeth. I sit down next to him, throwing one leg over the other and putting my hands on his chest, nudging him.

"Hey, Leonard. Wake up." When he doesn't, I flick my finger against his chest. "I'm serious. Wake up. We can go to bed if you want." Now I'm getting irritated. I let out a miffed scoff and tug at his sweatshirt collar. "Leonard, to go to bed you have to stand." I slide onto the floor and try to pull him off, thinking that will do the trick. He's pretty much out cold. I've never seen somebody sleep through being pulled off the couch before. I pull him all the way off the couch, and he lands next to me, eyes flying open the second his back hits the floor. I feel bad for our neighbors.

"What the hell?" His voice is hoarse from sleep, laced with emptiness, a void that sadness can't even fill.

"You fell asleep on the couch. I knew you weren't going to wake up if I didn't do it for you," I say flatly, sitting up and folding my arms over my chest.

"What time is it?" Leonard yawns, lifting a hand to his face and rubbing his eyes groggily. When he does, something on his wrist catches his eye.

"I don't know." He raises an eyebrow. "Late."

Leonard stands, still rubbing his eyes. "You tired?"

"Exhausted." At least, that's one way to put it. "Let's go to bed." I know a good night's sleep can't cure this, but at least I can forget about it, at least for a little while…

 ***TBBT TBBT TBBT***

"You okay?" I ask as I pull on my pajamas. Leonard is lying in bed, staring up at the ceiling. He didn't even bother to get undressed. I change into a pink tank top and boy shorts, climbing in next to him.

"Hey, you." I nudge him, and he looks over, reaching from the bedside table and pushing his glasses onto his nose. "You okay?"

He lets out a quiet little laugh that sounds more like a choked sigh. "Not really, what about you?"

"Not at all," I say softly, throwing my arm over his shoulder and leaning back into the cushy pillows. "But we have to stay strong, y'know?" I know the words sound stupid and shallow as soon as they exit my mouth. I had a friend in high school who suffered from severe clinical depression, and she claimed she hated it when people told her to just "stay strong!" She always said it was a bunch of bullshit. They made it sound like it was a choice, to stay strong- with depression, you have no choice but to stay strong. That's why she gave up on those mediocre pep-talk home video tapes and seeked help. I don't know how she's doing now, but last I heard, Savanna said she's doing well.

Leonard rubs his thumb against mine in counter-clockwise motions. "Strong? Yeah, you could say that." Tired defeat is evident in his strained voice.

"I'm so sorry," I say softly, regretting my words. I'm so bad at this. "I love you." I rest my head in the hollow of his shoulder and immediately feel as if I'm engulfed in safety.

"I love you, too," Leonard replies sleepily, shutting his eyes. "That's such a strong word, yanno? Love. People either love or hate too much. There's no in between. It's like fire and ice."

"Or a tornado meets a volcano," I mumble. My hands are becoming clammy and sticky under the covers, so I pull the comforter to my waist and rest my hands on my abdomen.

He chuckles. "Yeah."

There's a quiet pause, with crickets chirping outside the window. It's completely dark now, the only source of light being splotches of golden pools of lamps in other apartment windows. I've turned off the light in the room, feeling a sudden wave of serenity.

"The dark comforts me," I murmur into his chest. "It's like...a reflection of my thoughts, I guess. People say monsters come alive at night. That's true, yes, but some of the most beautiful things happen at night, too. Darkness isn't bad- darkness is magical."

"Hmm," Leonard sighs through his nose, cuddling up to me and throwing his arms around me.

"I sound so cheesy." I nuzzle my face into his chest, immediately calmed by his chest rising and falling with the motion of his breathing.

I hear the smile in his voice. "No. You sound honest."

"Honest, huh?" I exhale softly. "I guess so."

I feel his cool breath against the bare skin that isn't covered by my night shirt.

Once the crickets' chirping fades, and all the lights dim in the apartments surrounding ours, I close my eyes and finally succumb to sleep.

 ***LEONARD'S POV***

She doesn't suspect a thing. I'm debating whether I should feel relieved or betrayed. With a pit of resounding guilt forming at the bottom of my stomach, I slide Sophie's arms off of my shoulders, drape the covers over her, and exit the bedroom, closing the door gently behind me. I can't wrap my mind around how soundly she's managed to fall asleep. My head hurts, my thoughts are running rampant, and my chest is aching, from what I can't tell. I'm exhausted, but my mind won't allow me to rest. It's draining to sleep when your mind is a torture chamber.

I pad into the kitchen and pour myself another glass of wine. The grape-tinged beverage feels cool and soothing going down my throat.

I rinse out the glass and put it in the dishwasher.

I need a distraction. I sigh inwardly and sink into the couch, grabbing the remote and turning on the TV.

I surf until I discover free _Family Guy_ episodes on demand. I need a good laugh. One would think that Peter Griffin's stupid antics would do the trick, but it barely draws a chuckle out of me.

I want rest so badly. I can barely keep my eyes open, so, after a few episodes, I mute the TV and roll over onto my back so it faces the TV. The whole apartment is dark, but maybe the light of the TV will somehow be comforting.

Sophie claims that darkness is comforting. She may be honest, and I can respect that and appreciate about her, but once more that is something I disagree with. Darkness is a reminder of my inner turmoil, the only hours that my demons come out to play.

Speaking of my demons, I hear them beckoning me. I normally coop them up in a cage, simmering, but-

Just this once, I think I might let them out to play.


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N My sincerest apologies for the lack of updates. I was preparing for graduation, but since I have officially graduated, I now have plenty of structured time to write.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own the Big Bang Theory or any song lyrics I caption before each chapter. However, I do own my character, Sophie. Is that understood?**

 _"Let him know that you know best_

 _'Cause after all you do know best_

 _Try to slip past his defense_

 _Without granting innocence_

 _Lay down a list of what is wrong_

 _The things you've told him all along_

 _And pray to God he hears you_

 _And I pray to God he hears you"-_

The Fray, "How to Save a Life."

Chapter Eleven

 ***SOPHIE'S POV***

When my eyelids slide open the next morning, I automatically reach over and place my hand on Leonard's chest, but his space is empty. The cool sheets suggest that he hasn't been here in awhile.

Frowning, I get out of bed and wrap my robe around me before padding into the kitchen. I fix myself a cup of coffee and sit down in front of the computer, logging on and Googling: _**MARRIAGE COUNSELORS NEAR ME.**_

Leonard and I don't have problems with our relationship- yet. But it's best to tackle any worries and issues before they rear their ugly heads and destroy what's left of our relationship before we get married.

We have a good relationship. We're not just lovers- lovers, I've always loved that word: it sounds so grown up, while boyfriend sounds like a short-lived high school romance- we're best friends, too. But most marriages do not survive any form of a child's death.

You'd think that a child or infant dying would bring a couple closer than ever before. Usually, the case is that the wife has sunken into a deep depression, whether it be post-partum psychosis, or or just grief, and the husband shuts down and completely isolates himself, leading the wife to think that he doesn't care or loves her and the deceased infant anymore. That being said, it's best to solve these issues before they arise.

I've finally come across a therapy center in Pasadena: Silver Hills. It hosts family therapists, group therapy, therapy for teens, AA, drug addiction recovery, and marriage/couple counseling.

I dial the number listed on Silver Hill's website home page and wait. After a few rings, I'm put on hold to poppy elevator music until a young woman answers the phone.

 _"Silver Hills Counseling Center, this is Kathy, how may I help you?"_

"Hey Kathy, I would like to make an appointment as soon as possible. What dates to you have available?"

She gives me the list of open days, and I select Tuesday, which is two days from now.

 _"May I have your name, please?"_

"Of course. List us as Mr & Mrs. Leonard Hofstadter." The names rolling off my tongue smoothly seem so weird, in a good way, to say.

I hear the clacking of fingers across a computer keyboard, followed by the click of a mouse. _"Okie dokie, so, you're all set for this Tuesday at 3 o'clock P.M. with Dr. Lambert."_

"Oh, thank you." I breathe a sigh of relief. We can finally get through this! "We'll see you then."

"You are so welcome, have a wonderful day." She hangs up, and I'm left with nothing but the fuzzy silence on the other end of the phone. I tuck my phone in my pocket and carry my coffee cup onto the couch, where Leonard is sitting half-asleep with the TV on. The dark circles under his eyes and lines on his face make it seem like he's aged overnight. I know how he feels.

"So." I clear my throat and cross one leg over the other. "I made an appointment with a marriage counselor."

That gets his attention almost immediately. "What? Why?"

"We're both struggling with child loss." I put my words together slowly and carefully, as if explaining a tricky math problem to a four-year-old. "We need someone to talk to about it. Together. Someone who's professional, someone who's tackled this subject before." I take his hand in mine and squeeze it. "It's going to be uncomfortable to discuss, but we need to get through this, Leonard. I still want you. I know we're not married yet, but it's not too late."

His eyes are empty when he looks at me. "After I've failed you?"

That stops me dead in my tracks. "What?"

"I. Failed. You," Leonard repeats, more coherent this time. "I was the one who impregnated you. If I hadn't, this would have never happened."

"Oh, Leonard." I sigh, rubbing his thumb. "We're romantically involved and have consensual sex. Of course me getting pregnant was bound to happen. With pregnancy comes complications. But…" I drift off. I have no idea what I'm saying anymore. "Don't blame yourself."

"Who else is there to blame?" Leonard replies dryly, removing his gasses and rubbing his eyes. "I've failed as a man…" His voice cracks, and my heart shatters.

The most heartbreaking thing ever is the sound of someone's voice breaking right before they cry.

 ***TBBT TBBT TBBT***

Tuesday rolls along quicker than I imagined it could. Truthfully, I'd almost forgotten about it until a reminder popped up on my phone in the middle of a phone call with my mother.

I told my mother I had a doctor's appointment, aligned with a plausible reason that wouldn't make her worried sick, and hung up. I haven't even told her that I was pregnant in the first place. I decide to delay telling her about it all until further into therapy. I'll ask Dr. Lambert about this.

The waiting smells like hand-soap and window-washer. A young boy in a wheelchair sits next to a woman in the corner who is reading a magazine. The boy looks to be no older than five or six, with some sort of birth defect. He's cuddling with a Tigger plush and chewing on a teething toy and groaning loudly, drool dripping down his chin and onto a bib.

I feel badly for the boy, and wonder if our would-be baby would've ended up suffering from any birth defects or syndromes after birth.

 _How can someone that young be in a wheelchair? Was he born that way? Or was there an accident that made him that way?_ I look away from the boy and stare down at my hands.

Our names are called not too much later, and we're met at the door by a hazel-skinned, blue-eyed woman with box braids at the doorway.

She smiles at us. "You must be the Hofstadters?"

"That would be us." I attempt to smile back, although the very act of smiling is harrowing.

"Well, come on back." She leads us down the hallway. "I'm Dr. Lambert," she adds quickly, as if just remembering, and we turn one more corner before we come to a stop in front of a door with a sign etched into a gold block that says DR. LAMBERT. "Come on in."

Dr. Lambert opens the door and steps aside, allowing us in. Leonard and I sink down into the olive-colored couch across from a big desk. A mini cactus plant perches on the desk next to a computer, along with a photo of Dr. Lambert and a little girl that is identical to her, whom I can only assume is her daughter. Dr. Lambert's high school diploma, college degrees, and therapy license hang on the wall above the desk. Classical music is playing softly from somewhere in the room. A golden light streams through the blinds in the window above the couch.

Dr. Lambert pulls out the office chair from behind the desk and sits in front of us, crossing her legs and smiling warmly. "What do you need from me? How can I help you heal?" Her voice is soft and sympathetic, her face calm and motherly.

Leonard ducks his head, his face unreadable.

I sigh. "We recently lost a child," I tell her, shifting uncomfortably, "and by recently, I mean within the last few days."

Dr. Lambert's face crumples. "Oh, I'm so sorry," she says softly. "Was it stillborn or a toddler-?"

"It was a miscarriage." My voice cracks, and I rub my eyes. "Sorry," I say automatically.

"Don't be sorry." Dr. Lambert passes us a tissue box. "You're here to talk about your feelings. Crying is a natural part of healing. I'd be worried if you didn't cry."

I smile at her tearfully and wipe my mouth with a Kleenex. "You must run out of tissues pretty fast with your profession, huh?"

Dr. Lambert chuckles. "I sure do." Then, her face turns serious. "Let's rewind."

"Rewind?" I echo, glancing over at Leonard, who hasn't said a single word since we walked into the session.

"It's an exercise I like to do with my couples," Dr. Lambert explains. "I like to have them tell me their story from the beginning. Relationships always start off with that honeymoon phase, right? You're madly in love, can't be apart from each other, oo-la-la?" I nod. "Plus, all ladies love to talk about how they met their man." At this I smile in spite of myself.

Leonard reaches over and touches my hand, and we clasp each others' hands, immediately engulfed in warmth. "It's somewhat weird, Leonard and I met through his ex-girlfriend," I start, conjuring up the snippet of when I first moved to Pasadena. "All three of us are still friends. Anyway, I'd just moved into the apartment building. It was day one so I was still a little bit of a wallflower-" I insert a light chuckle- "so his ex-girlfriend/friend introduced me to her group of friends, and the one who made me feel like I belonged the most was Leonard. He asked the questions and made sure I wasn't left out." The words tumble out of my mouth, surprising me, but I let myself go on. "We started seeing each other, and he asked me out. And then…" I look at him and squeeze his hand. "I guess then is when it all started. We got really serious, started having, um…" I drift off and blush.

Dr. Lambert chuckles. "Honey, I'm a marriage counselor," she reminds me with a lop-sided smile. "You don't have to censor anything you say in here."

"Okay, um. We started having sex and got engaged, not necessarily in that order." I clear my throat, and Leonard nods. "We used protection the first time. And a couple times after. But, from then on, we stopped using protection, and, I got pregnant." I swallow the lump that had formed in my throat. "And then…" I shrug and drift off again, looking down at my hands.

"We lost the baby." Leonard's voice is empty, emotionless.

Dr. Lambert's face softens again. "Well, I wish I could say this is going to be easy for you," she says softly, passing Leonard the tissue box, "but unfortunately, it isn't. Remember, that's what you have me here for. You don't have to pretend or hide in this room- once you set foot in my room, you can let it all out. I'm sure there's a lot on your mind, and a lot of it not good, right?" Leonard and I nod jerkily in unison. "That's what I thought. We're going to address all these thoughts and feelings in here." Dr. Lambert checks her watch. "Well, it looks like our session has ended for today, but if you ask Kathy At the Desk, she can get you an appointment in for sometime next week."

She stands, and we follow suit and walk toward the door. "It was so nice meeting you," Dr. Lambert says as we shake hands.

"You, too." I smile and nod. "We'll see you next week, then."

"Have a wonderful week!" She smiles, giving us a wide berth, as we head down the carpeted hallway to the waiting room.

I set an appointment for next Friday, hoping things won't spiral down even more, before then.


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N I'm quite enjoying writing this story. I've not written much angst before, so I hope it's not too pretentious. I do need some feedback. Like I've stated, constructive criticism is more than welcomed, but flames are not. Now, here are the trigger warnings/content warnings for this chapter.**

 **TW- graphic description of self-harm/self-mutilation**

 **TW- miscarriage recovery**

 **TW- alcohol/substance abuse**

 **That should be it until further notice. Let me know if I need more and I will add them. Just a friendly heads-up, this whole chapter will be based in Leonard's POV. :) Hopefully that should clear up some confusion.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own the Big Bang Theory. I only own Sophie, Leonard, and their angst. Nor do I own any song lyrics that I caption before every chapter. All rights go to their original owners, respectively.**

 _"I wish I was like you_

 _Easily amused_

 _Find my nest of salt_

 _Everything is my fault_

 _I'll take all the blame_

 _Aqua seafoam shame_

 _Sunburn freezer burn_

 _Choking on the ashes of her enemy"-_

Nirvana, "All Apologies."

Chapter Twelve

As much as sleep beckons me, I can't even close my eyes. My mind races. I'm lethargic, but I can't sleep a wink. It's so frustrating, because all I want to do is sleep, and it seems that all Sophie can do is sleep.

The past few days have been hell, at least for me. Sophie tries to speak to me, but even if I could talk, there are too many things I want to say at once. So it would be impossible to talk about just one thing and call it a night.

Sophie keeps herself busy mostly, making messes purposefully to give her something to clean, or going out to shop for groceries even though our fridge and cupboard are practically overflowing. I'm the polar opposite. At work, I find myself drifting away from a task or project. My mind is a spider web of thoughts and musings, but when I get to work, it's like my brain goes blank; wiped clean.

Even Wolowitz corners me and asks if a cat's got my tongue at lunch.

"Dude, you've been acting weird all week." Wolowitz inhales his turkey-and-mayo sandwich while looking at me suspiciously. "What the hell's going on?"

"Sorry," I say, looking at my food. I haven't even touched the tuna wrap that Sophie fixed for me this morning before I left. "It's just...Sophie and I lost the baby, and things have been a little rough all over." That's the long story short, at least. I slightly sugar-coated it.

Wolowitz frowns. "Shit. I'm sorry, man." He claps his hand on my shoulder on a brotherly manner. "Well, you know Bernadette and I here for you guys. You can come over for dinner any time you like."

"Thanks, Howard." But I don't think a night in front of the TV will cure our problems. It may get our mind off of things- momentarily. "I'll think about it."

"That's my man." Wolowitz grins at me before wolfing down the other half of his sandwich.

I force myself to swallow the tuna wrap, but it has no flavor.

Around two-o'clock in the afternoon, Sophie phones me.

"Hello?" I clamp the phone to my ear, stepping into the hallway.

She sounds worried. "Is everything okay?"

"I guess." A staticky pause. "Why?"

"You sound...stuffy." I hear the frown in her voice.

I clear my throat. "Maybe I'm coming down with something. How's your day been?"

"Oh, you know." Her tone of voice is neutral; unreadable. "Same shit, different day. But enough about me. How's _your_ day going?"

My day has been about the equivalent of hers, but I don't want her to worry about me anymore than she already is. I don't want to give her an ulcer on top of suffering a miscarriage. "It's been alright. Wolowitz and I finally figured out the string theory Sheldon's been trying to crack for, like, nine months now."

"That's great!" Sophie masks whatever she's really feeling with peppy cheerfulness. "I'm happy for you, Leonard. I know you've been working so hard."

"Yeah, well-" I glance over at Wolowitz, who's struggling to put a plug to a chord into an outlet by his desk. "-I guess it's something." At least work gives me a sense of purpose. In the past few hours, I haven't felt completely worthless. Maybe I should follow in Sophie's footsteps and keep myself busy.

I hear an oddly familiar voice say something unintelligible in the background and Sophie says, "Well, I'd better get going. Penny, Bernadette and I are going out for a late lunch at the Cheesecake Factory."

I'm taken aback. "You've been talking to Penny?" I try not to sound territorial. I don't want to be one of those jackass guys who act like he owns his girlfriend. Sophie can hang out with whoever she wants, as long as it's not someone who's hurt her in the past or present. But it still stings that she didn't tell me that she and Penny are communicating. "For how long?" The question emerges combative, even to my own ears.

"Since she introduced me to you." Sophie sounds puzzled, and a little alarmed, too. "She's been helping me a lot, with the miscarriage and all, the past few days. And Bernadette, too. Why? Do you have a problem with it?"

"O-of course not." I finally manage to choke out a response. "It's just-"

 _Penny is just yet another painful reminder that I'm a failure, and that I still have a piece of my heart saved for her that I shouldn't. I couldn't keep it together for Penny, and now I'm falling apart with Sophie, too. Penny left because she knew I wasn't worth it anymore. I don't deserve her, and I don't deserve you, either, Sophie. You're too good of a woman for me. The man in the relationship is supposed to stay strong for the woman. But how can I, if I'm falling apart at the seams? I'm sorry, Penny and Sophie. You both deserve better._

I clear my throat again. "I'm sorry, I'm keeping you. Go have fun with Penny and Bernadette."

"Alright," Sophie agrees half-heartedly, her voice wavering with uncertainty. "I'll see you tonight. I'll make meatloaf and mashed potatoes. How does that sound?"

"It sounds good. Thanks." Although, I can't fathom eating right now. I can barely keep down the tuna wrap I had for lunch. "I'll see you tonight."

"You too!" Her light-hearted promise is followed by the resounding click confirming the phone call's end. I sigh, pocket my phone, and turn to face Wolowitz, who's still trying to adjust the plug in the socket.

"What are you doing, Wolowitz?" I sigh again, crouching down beside him to examine the socket.

"Can't. Get. This. Damn. Thing. In-" Wolowitz grits his teeth and forces the plug into the socket. "I'm trying to connect the new computer sys- Ouch!" Sparks fly, literally, and he jerks his hand away, landing on his back next to the socket.

I massage my temples with my index fingers and exhale through gritted teeth. "Come on. We can work on that tomorrow. Let's just...get ready to go home."

As we pack up the room, Wolowitz asks me why I'm wearing long sleeves in June. "It's, like, ninety degrees out," he reminds me, raising his eyebrows quizzically.

"It's nothing. I'm just cold, that's all." I push my sleeves further up onto my wrists. Now I wish I was wearing my work gloves. "Seriously. I'm fine. I just want to go home."

Wolowitz raises his eyebrows again, frowns, then drops them. "Okay."

As we leave the building, I can't help but think that Sophie keeping something from me is out of character for her. We used to tell each other everything.

If she really has been communicating with Penny so heavily and for so long behind my back, what else could she be keeping from me?

 ***TBBT TBBT TBBT***

When I arrive home, the apartment is vacant. The TV is still on, however muted with blurry subtitles, and a note is pasted to the fridge door.

 _Leonard,_

 _The girls and I will be home around 5:30 this evening. I already put dinner on the stove; it should be ready in about half an hour or so. Feel free to start without me if you're hungry. I can't wait to see you!_

 **Sincerely,**

 **Sophie**

 **Xoxo**

Flowy, pastel-pink hearts outline the paper. I leave the note stamped on the fridge and check on the meatloaf, which is still baking in the oven.

I can't imagine eating even if I force myself to. I don't know if I'd be able to keep anything down anyhow.

A silver knife lies beside the hot stove, glowing, like an entity, on the counter. The object almost beckons me, begging me to pick it up. I find myself pulling my sleeves down to my elbows. The marks from the last time I cut are fading into scars, but are still somewhat visible, little dotted lines across my veins. Unable to take it anymore, I finally cave and yank the knife off of the counter, drawing it slowly across my wrist. Copper-colored, thick blood drips onto the floor. The pain is sharp and startling, but I find myself seeking solace in it, forcing myself to embrace the pain. It's probably nothing close to the pain that Sophie's feeling, but it'll stand for something.

I wait for the pain to subside, then chuck the knife into the drawer and snap it shut, my breathing labored.

No wonder Sophie avoids me.

I'm scary.

I even scare myself.

How pathetic is that?


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N Well well well, it's been a long-ass time since I last updated, hasn't it? My sincerest apologies. But let's get down to business.**

 **TW- Infant/toddler death**

 **If there any trigger warnings I need to add for this chappie, let me know and I will happily add them! So, time to do the disclaimer. Sheldon, get your butt in here and do the disclaimer!**

 **Sheldon: But I'm working on a theory!**

 **Me: (growls) Now!**

 **Sheldon: (sighs) Fine…*enters the room* rxcknrollrebel does not own the Big Bang Theory. He only owns his OC Sophie. You happy?**

 **Me: (curtsies)Very! You can go back to your string theorying now.**

 **Sheldon: Thank the lord that I deny all existence of! *storms out of the room***

 **Me: Well, you heard the man!**

 _"Time can bring you down_

 _Time can bend your knees_

 _Time can break your heart_

 _Have you begging_

 _Please, begging, please_

 _Beyond the door there's peace, I'm sure_

 _And I know there'll be no more tears in heaven"-_

Eric Clapton, "Tears In Heaven."

Chapter Thirteen

 **SOPHIE'S POV**

As soon as I cross the apartment threshold, I collapse in a heap on the floor, lying on my side to face the TV.

"Soph?" Leonard's tentative voice sounds from somewhere in the apartment. "You home?"

"Yeah," I croak, sounding very much like a frog, and clear my throat. "Yeah, I'm home."

Leonard enters the living room. He frowns when he sees me. "I would ask how your day was," he remarks slowly, eyebrows furrowed, "but you're on the floor."

I half-laugh, half-sob. "Yes, yes I am."

Leonard lies down on the floor next to me. "Do you ever feel like a ceiling fan?"

I look up at the ceiling fan that's spinning in counter-clockwise motions above us. "What?"

"I mean, do you ever feel like you're going in infinite circles, with no end in sight?" Leonard elaborates, with his arm up in the air pointed in the direction of the ceiling fan.

"Sure," I murmur, folding my arms over my chest. "Don't we all?"

The ceiling fan continues its endless cycle of spinning in circles, obviously with no intention of stopping.

 ***TBBT TBBT TBBT***

The subsequent morning, after I crawl out of bed, I rummage the freezer and retrieve a carton of chocolate chip ice cream. What can I say? After the bullshit I've been dealing with lately, I deserve to freakin' treat myself.

I yank a spoon from the utensil drawer and begin shoveling scoops of ice cream in my mouth directly from the carton.

Leonard emerges from the dark hallway, raking his fingers through his sleep-tangled hair; yawning. He's still clad in his Spiderman pajamas.

Leonard emits another yawn, rubbing his eyes. When he sees me, he stops and stares.

"What?" I say defensively through a mouthful. The best offense is defense. That is the only useful information to be gleamed from organized sports.

"You're eating ice cream...at 7 in the morning," Leonard points out, his voice husky from sleep. "That's super unhealthy."

"I don't care if it's healthy or not," I whine, swallowing my mouthful of ice cream. "I'm miserable." I punctuate my sentence with a groan.

Leonard raises his eyebrows; drops them. "Fair enough. Can I join you?"

I shrug. "It's a free country." I pass him the carton, and we eat out of it together, chewing in unison.

I begin to laugh, something I haven't done in awhile.

"What?" Leonard swallows his own mouthful.

"We're literally bonding," I say between giggles, "over ice cream."

He breaks into a grin from ear to ear, and laughs along with me.

After we polish off a whole carton of ice cream in one sitting, (a world record) he sits on the couch flipping through a sci-fi magazine, and I sit at the computer, scrolling through my Facebook feed, when I suddenly come across an old article about Eric Clapton (the lead singer from the classic rock band Cream) that one of my old high school classmates posted.

I scroll through it, soon enough realizing that it's a rare interview with _Rolling Stone_ about Eric Clapton's late son, Conor, who fell from an open window on the 53rd floor of a Manhattan apartment building that Clapton and his wife shared at the time. He was four and a half years old. I make the mistake of reading till the very end of the article. According to Clapton, he and his wife had attempted many times to have children, but their efforts were proven futile when they only resulted in miscarriages.

I immediately burst into tears, my head in my hands.

Leonard immediately rushes to my side. "What's wrong?"

I gesture to the article. "Eric Clapton's son-" my breath emerges in smothered gasps- "his son died from falling from their apartment window." I try to take a deep breath, but only crumple into sobs again. "He was only four years old!" I wail, gasping for air.

Leonard massages my shoulders. "Poor thing," he murmurs, and I can't tell whether he's referring to me or Eric Clapton's son. I don't even bother to ask.

After about five minutes of a mental breakdown, Leonard dries my tears and passes a tissue to me. I accept it gratefully and blow my nose. "You know," I manage to squeak out finally, my voice as Owen Wilson's, "after the death of his child, Eric Clapton went completely off the grid and took refuge in Antigua for a year. Should we do the same thing?"

"Go off the grid, or vacation in Antigua?" Leonard inquires, pushing his glasses on the bridge of his nose.

"Not necessarily in Antigua," I muse, logging out of Facebook and powering down the laptop, "maybe in the Bahamas, or Hawaii."

"That would be nice," Leonard ponders. "But can afford it?"

"I have no idea," I admit with a shrug. "Although, 'if you put your mind to it, you can accomplish anything'."

"Who said that?" Leonard sits down in what was once Sheldon's Spot on the sofa. "Shakespeare?"

"Nope...Doc Brown." I grin at him. " _Back to the Future._ 1985."

Leonard actually laughs. "Classic, and one of my favorites."

"I haven't showered or brushed my teeth today," I announced to no one in particular. "But you know what? Fuck it. Let's make popcorn and watch _Back to the Future_ together."

Leonard grins. "It's a date."

I dig around in the DVD cabinet until I locate _Back to the Future_ , then turn on the TV and pop it into the DVD player. I crawl onto Leonard's lap, and he wraps his arms around me, his chin resting on the top of my head, as the Universal Pictures song plays from the TV. Our legs tangle together.

I'm surprised at his voluntary response to physical affection.

It feels like forever since we've actually gotten physical with each other.

But I think I can get used to it.


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N Well well well Sophie, you better not get too used to it, 'cuz boy, do I have a shit ton of angst for you coming up.**

 _"Though it's been awhile now_

 _I can still feel so much pain_

 _Like the knife that cuts you_

 _The wound heals_

 _But the scar_

 _The scar remains"-_

Poison, "Every Rose Has Its Thorn."

Chapter Fourteen

 _Knock knock knock._

"Leonard and Sophie."

 _Knock knock knock._

"Leonard and Sophie."

 _Knock knock knock._

"Leonard and Soph-"

I fumble for the lock, swearing under my breath, and swing open the door, nearly whacking Sheldon in the face with it. "What?!" I demand, rubbing my crusty eyes.

"Is Leonard home?" Sheldon attempts to shove past me into the apartment, but I blocked his way.

"Sheldon, it's three o'clock in the morning," I groan hoarsely. "What the hell are you doing here and what the hell do you want?"

"Oh, so you _can_ tell time," Sheldon replies, appearing genuinely surprised.

"Just tell me what the hell you want!" I put my hands on my hips, restraining the urge to punch him in the face.

Sheldon pales. "Katie adopted a child."

I blink at him. "Okay, congratulations." I try closing the door in his face, but he props it open with his arm.

"You're missing my point," Sheldon says breathlessly, while I darkly glare at him. "Katie...adopted...a child."

I raise my eyebrows. "We've established that," I growl, whatever string of patience I had left finally snapping. "And the problem is?"

"The problem is," Sheldon begins to panic, "that I have no experience in rearing a child!"

I stare at him. "Oh, boo-hoo," I say apathetically. "Get over yourself, Cooper. You'll be fine." I point my finger at him. "Consider yourself lucky, Sheldon Cooper. As of now, I am unable to conceive. I cannot carry or birth a child. And it is absolute hell. I've been trying so damned hard. Leonard and I both have, and it's just not working. I would give anything to be in your position right now. So stop whining get your ass home, and spend time with that baby. You have a wife who needs you." He stares at me in shock. "Oh, and if you wake me again, I'll have no choice but to kill you."

Sheldon's eyes widen, and I slam the door in his face, sliding the bolt home.

I sink down to the floor, collapsing against the door, and run my fingers through my tangled hair before putting my face in my hands. "Oh, Lord give me strength."

 ***TBBT TBBT TBBT***

The next time my eyes open, I'm lying in bed. Which is weird, because last time I remember, I had fallen asleep on the living room floor after my slumber was oh so rudely interrupted by Sheldon. Maybe I sleep-walked, or just walked into the bedroom and couldn't remember. Other than Sheldon, the prior night's memories were hazy.

I turn on my side to see Leonard fast asleep, curled up next to me against my side. He looks like a happy puppy when he sleeps. I smile and get out of bed, reaching for the covers and tucking him in. I close the door behind me as I walk out and pad to the kitchen, still clad in my pink pajamas.

I put the coffee on and turn around, leaning against the counter. I nearly jump out of my skin when I see Sheldon standing in front of me. I grab the nearest thing I can defend myself with (a frying pan) and whacked him on the head with it. "What the hell?!" He doesn't move.

"Judging by your facial expression," Sheldon breathes, rubbing his head, "you aren't pleased."

"Aren't you a smart one." I lower the frying pan, my guard, however, still up, and he opens his mouth to answer, but I cut him off. "How long have you been here?"

"All night," Sheldon answers, and I glare at him.

"That's creepy." I jerk my thumb toward the front door. "Get out."

"But-" Sheldon begins, and I swing the frying pan at him. That's enough to get him to run to the door.

I follow him, standing on the threshold make sure he doesn't try anymore funny business. He steps outside, and I put my hands on my hips and stare at him.

He's halfway down the steps, but turns around. He must have caught me staring, because he says, "What?", with a hard edge to his voice.

I smile. "It's the chase, isn't it?"

Sheldon blinks at me. "The chase?" he echoes incredulously.

I smirk. "Men just love the adrenaline rush of chasing someone even after they've told you to go away, right?"

Sheldon shrugs his shoulders lazily, then clomps down the stairs.

"What's going on?" Leonard comes to my side. He looks- and sounds- sleepy.

I gesture to Sheldon. "This genius doctor," I inform Leonard dryly, "has been in our apartment literally all freaking night."

Leonard stares at me blankly. "You're joking, right?" he inquires, rubbing his eyes.

I shake my head. "I wish I was."

"What? Why?" Leonard's glare shifts from me to Sheldon. "Sheldon, what the hell is wrong with you?"

Sheldon pivots; whips back around to face us, a motion akin to the Michael Jackson dance. "Katie is adopting a child," he says, breathless again, with panic flickering in his eyes, "and I was confiding in Sophie about what should be done regarding the matter. As you both are aware, I, myself, have no personal experience with child rearing. However, I am aware that you and Sophie are attempting to conceive. Once you conceive and birth, I would like to…" He blushes, then fumbles and stumbles over his words. "I would like to babysit your child."

Leonard and I glance at each other, the news of Sheldon's true plight leaving us in stunned silence. Or at least, I'm stunned.

I feel my own face flame. "Sheldon-"

Leonard raises his hand, placing it gently on my shoulder. "We'll think about it, Sheldon," he vowed, squeezing my shoulder softly. "We'll get back to you when we can."

Sheldon looks relieved, nods. "Thank you." With that, he turns and walks out the building.

As the news begins to wear off, Leonard and I step back into the apartment and close the door.

I know what I have to do.

I take a deep breath, sit down at the computer, and Google _"child/infant adoption process."_


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N Well, I have no excuses for not updating except for that I'm a lazy piece of shit and writer's block. But now we're finally tuning back into Leonard and Sophie's world. I hope y'all don't hate me too much. Thank you so much for still sticking by me, my royal readers! Really, I should tell you guys more often how much I appreciate you. 3 I would like to also add that Leonard's pain in this story is to display that men hurt as well. While women's feelings are valid and emotions are not a competition, we must acknowledge that toxic masculinity has been present since the beginning of time and continues to harm men. Because of toxic masculinity- and societies standards that men are not "man enough" when they express their emotions, men are less likely to reach out for emotional help, and also why the male suicide rate is so high. We should not tell men to "man up." Instead, we should stand up, not "man up." Men struggle with the same things that women do. To all the men and boys reading this, you are valid, and don't you forget it.**

 _"Celebrate we will_

 _'Cause life is short_

 _But sweet for certain_

 _We climb two by two_

 _To be sure these days continue_

 _Things we cannot change"_ -

Dave Matthews Band, "Two Step."

Chapter Fifteen

 **LEONARD'S POV**

"We could adopt from China. They have a 'one-child only' policy that forces Chinese parents to give up their second child, which is almost always baby girls. I've always wanted a little girl." Sophie drums her fingers on the desktop and gazes over at me expectantly. "What do you think?"

Truth is, I can barely think. "Soph, I just don't know about this," I sigh, raking my fingers through my sleep-tangled hair. "What if we're really not ready to be parents?" I lean closer to the computer screen, scrolling through the Wikipedia page about China's adoption policy.

She stares at me, blankly, then remarks, "Untighten your jaw. Do we need to get you a mouth guard?"

I rub my jaw and realize that I've been clenching it this whole time. "Sorry."

Sophie waves a dismissive hand. "Stop saying sorry."

I close my mouth- more gently this time- and resist the urge to say "sorry" again. "We could adopt from Haiti. They're a third-world country, right? I'm sure there are plenty of parentless children that are in need of loving homes in Haiti."

Sophie blinks at me. "Aren't those called 'developing countries', too?" She mimes air quotations with both index fingers. "You know," she adds disdainfully, "because 'developing countries' is more acceptable to say than 'countries who are rebuilding after being destroyed by their own government.'"

I sigh again; louder this time. "You're missing my point, Soph," I tell her tiredly. "It's just, the-there are so many options, and I think we should take our time and soul search a little, right?"

"Okay, Gandhi," she scoffs, and I roll my eyes. "Yeah, I see what you're saying. But aren't you excited, too, at the same time? I think it'll be an adventure." She taps the keyboard. "You know, when I was in high school, my best friend- Savanna- she went to overseas to China and spent time volunteering at an orphanage and met so many wonderful children and other volunteers. She taught the children about American culture, and the children introduced her to Chinese culture. She even learned how to speak Mandarin. It was just so cool and amazing. She even became close with an orphaned teenage boy there and helped him find a new home in America. Some of those orphanages are so awful- they're fraught with disease and poverty-ridden, and the workers there don't have a clue about how rear a child."

"Did you seriously just say 'fraught'?" I stifle a snicker, although my grin must be obvious, because she swats at me. "Okay, Edgar Allen Poe."

"You're changing the subject," Sophie whines, pouting playfully.

In that moment, that adorable, little pouty smirk of hers reminds me that despite our hardships and disagreements, we still have some light-hearted and almost carefree moments together. I just wish so much that it would last. "I have some avoidant personality tendencies, I guess."

She scoffs; then her face turns serious. "But, you know, I think that if we do go to a foreign country to adopt," she says softly, squeezing my hand gently, "it may bring us closer together. Maybe even heal us." Her looks up at me, her eyes glistening a little. "We could get married in Haiti, or something. Do our vows."

"Aww, c'mon…" My voice cracks, and I almost choke on my words. "Now you're gonna make me cry." She laughs and buries her face in my chest. "Okay, okay, you got me. I'll think about it, alright?"

Sophie bounces up from her seat and does the Moon Walk, triumphantly.

"Hey, it's not a definite!" I remind her as she nearly trips over her own two feet. "Okay, I think we need to master walking before we leave the country."

Sophie sighs dreamily and collapses onto the couch, staring up at the spinning ceiling fan.

Suddenly, my cell phone vibrates in my pocket. I raise my finger in a sort of "hang on a minute" gesture, and Sophie nods, reaching for the TV remote. I pad into the hallway and check the caller ID. MOM. My breath hitches in my throat.

After about three rings, with a trembling hand, I finally muster the ability to answer the phone. "H-hello?" _Stop stammering, dammit!_

"Leonard!" My mother's smooth voice emits through the phone speaker. "It's about time you answered. You went MIA for awhile."

"Uh, yeah." I rub the back of my neck with my free hand. "S-sorry. I've just been a little busy, that's all."

"Too busy for your own mother?" She clicks her tongue in disapproval. She takes my silence as annoyance. "I'm only kidding, Leonard."

I finally decide to inform her of the big news. "Mom, I'm engaged."

An almost painful moment- no, eon- of awkward silence passes between us. At last, my mother says dubiously, " _Engaged_? Well, this is certainly new."

"Uh...not really," I state defensively.

"How long have you been with this girl, Leonard?" Her voice becomes harder, and I cringe, bracing myself for impact.

"Um...about a year now." I can feel my jaw beginning to tighten again, and I allow my head to fall against the wall behind me.

"Oh?" Her voice changes from hard to almost curious. "And why on earth haven't I met this lady-friend before?"

 _Lady-friend? Is she serious?_ "Uh…"

"Well, if you've been with her for a year now," she says, clicking her tongue again, "it's not proper for the parent to go without at least an introduction. Am I correct?"

"Sure," I say tiredly, closing my eyes and realizing how exhausted I actually am.

"It's official," my mother states. "You're going to come over for supper this Saturday, and bring this new girl with you."

I don't even bother to protest. "Alright, but-"

"No buts," my mother cuts me off.

I sigh again. "Consider it done," I say flatly.

"Well, don't sound too excited," my mother says dryly.

"I am excited," I snap, my tone the exact opposite of happy. "Sorry, Mom. I'm just tired."

"Get some rest, then," my mother tells me. "Mother's orders. Remember, mothers always know best!"

Yeah, whatever. "Will do," I mumble. "See you Saturday." I hang up before she can interject.

I count on my fingers. It's Wednesday. Saturday is approximately four days away.

I have four whole days to tell Sophie about this dilemma.

And I realize I have no idea how the hell to tell her.


End file.
